Northern Dragon
by AmazonianWolf
Summary: Tradition has always been the backbone of society... but tradition can get me killed. (rated M because it's Game of Thrones and to be safe)
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_Tradition has always been the backbone of society, but tradition can get me killed_. Sansa thought as she stared in disbelief at her left wrist and lightly ran her fingertips over the elegant letters as she knelt in the Godswood.

_"__I hope it's Joffrey," she excitedly told her mother as she arranged her hair for the welcoming banquet. "He's so handsome and one day will be King."_

_ "__It doesn't really matter, darling," Catelyn replied. "Everything'll work out as well as it possibly can in the end."_

_Sansa remained silent. Father had received the name of some lowborn girl on his wrist, and then, she died of a fever not long after her sixteenth name day. Mother was not so lucky and found father's younger brother's name after he had already joined the Night's Watch. Perhaps it really wasn't wise of the ancients to allow the gods to place the names of those closest to being their soulmates on their wrists during puberty. At least the names fade not long after they are revealed, and most people don't bother to know what the names are, which decreases the likelihood of anyone using spirit oil to reveal the names. Such things are great boons to those with less than acceptable names for the person who is best for them._

She looked again at the fading name imprinted on her skin:

**Daenerys Targaryen**

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A/N: This idea refused to leave me alone since popping into my head in the middle of the night last week, so here is the beginning. I hope it's been enough to whet your appetite. Unlike my other stories, I think I'll only be updating this one twice a month or only once a month. That is if it decides to leave me alone enough to work on my other fics. Anyway, enjoy, comment, ect.

I don't own Game of Thrones. I only came up with the plot of this fanfic.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And I'm back, although this doesn't apply as much to this story as it does to my others, but I'm here again. The simple explanation is that life interrupted by throwing a lot at me. If you want the full story, go check out my profile page. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**Chapter One: Cold and Warm**

Pulling her sleeve down over her wrist, Sansa headed back into the castle as her stomach churned. _What will Joffrey think? What will mother and father think?!_ Gulping, she passed through the joyously drunk crowd of revelers to her seat at the table below her parents and the Queen.

The roaring laughs of the King boomed in the hall and caused Sansa to wince. _My own King would have me killed for treason for the name on my wrist. He would perhaps even view it as a personal wound, for he dearly loved my aunt when Targaryen whisked her away. He fought for her only to find her dead or close to it. Is he even my King now? With a Targaryen on my wrist, has my soul chosen a side for me? Do I now bow before the dragon?_

Slowing her hurried steps, she nervously passed by the head table and tried not to hunch her shoulders. _They cannot tell. It is not possible for them to know,_ she chided herself.

"Sansa?" Her mother quietly called, her voice cutting through the raucous hall.

"Yes, mother?" She answered and stopped to turn towards her, where she sat beside the Queen.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Warm blue eyes searched through her own.

Gulping, she replied, "I am fine, mother… It is just not who I wished."

Catelyn nodded as the Queen spoke, "It is hard when it is not who one wishes. Tell me, why is it the Starks venture to the Godswood in seclusion? I have not encountered a tradition like it, even this far north on her journey here."

"It is Stark tradition going back to the beginning of the Old Gods. It is said that it was they who granted mortals the gift of a soulmate," Lady Stark explained, and Cersei nodded.

"Go enjoy the rest of the feast, Sansa," her mother urged. "These things sort themselves out in the end. All will be well."

Briefly curtsying to the Queen, Sansa followed her mother's advice and quickly returned to the table that she shared with her siblings for the evening.

"Well, Sansa?" Robb asked once she was seated.

Remaining silent, she shook her head as she picked at the boar meat on her plate. "Not now, Robb. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want any more comfort either, so please, just don't."

He nodded his understanding and returned to discussing jousts with Theon on his left.

_Daenerys. I wonder what she is like. I hope she's not cruel like the old mad king, her father, was. I do not think I can bear it if she was. Snap out of it, Sansa!_ Angrily, she shoved her fork into the unfinished hunk of meat before her and quietly growled in frustration. _You'll never even meet her, so it doesn't matter!_

"I'm going to bed," she told Robb, who nodded in acknowledgement, as she stood up.

Quickly, she walked from the hall to her room, where she flung herself upon her bed fully clothed and stared at the ceiling. _What does she think of this?_

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The water was hot, but she did not care. It was pleasant and eased the tension in shoulders, even if it did not relax her mind as well. _Drogo is coming._ Alone, she laid back in the luxurious tub. Light danced delicately upon the surface of the water, shimmering in ephemeral shards of beauty. Gently, she raised her wrist to the level of her eyes, so the skin was framed by the open window and between the billowing currents. Without moving her gaze, she reached for a hidden bottle in the towel beside the bath. After dabbing a few drops upon a cloth, she replaced the bottle, carefully sealed, in its hiding place and raised the cloth to her pale skin. Gently, she wiped it across twice before laying the fabric on the stone rim by the towel.

Dark script began to take shape before her eyes. Through the steam, her gaze scrutinized the blooming letters. The words darkened until the name appeared flawlessly before her eyes: **Sansa Stark**. Soundlessly, her lips formed the name, and closing her eyes, she slowly kissed the already fading letters. Lifting her lids, she gazed out the window and lowered her arm back into the steaming water.

_It will not be_, she thought sadly. _I will be given to Drogo today. Even my own brother does not care for me now. He shall go to Westeros, not I. I shall remain in the desert as the wife of a nomad. He shall be King and do whatever pleases him._ _Sansa. I wonder what she is like._

"My Lady, it is nearly time," a servant informed her, and outwardly unfeeling, she rose slowly from the bath and dressed in the shimmering gown that her brother had chosen for the occasion.

Too soon, she arrived at the entrance of the mansion and stood quietly between Viserys and their host. She welcomed the cool breeze upon her hot cheeks and folded her hands across her stomach.

"Where is he?" Viserys asked.

"The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality," the older man answered.

A dull pounding began to reach their ears until it had risen to a roar of hooves upon the earth and snorts upon the air. Rounding the gate, four riders came to a standstill in the courtyard, and their host greeted them in the language of the nomads.

"May I present my honored guests," he greeted as he walked to their leader, an imposing man seated upon an impatient black stallion. Dany moved to the level of her brother. "Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful king of the Andals and the First men, and his sister, Daenerys of House Targaryen."

As she began to inch down the steps, her brother caught her wrist, stilling her, and whispered in her ear. "Do you see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braid, so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. He's a savage of course, but he's one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen." He released her then, and she continued forward at their host's beckoning.

Each step appeared to her to be agonizingly slow as time stretched on. Her eyes roved over the man her brother had promised her to. Bulging muscles presented themselves and untamed black hair. The physique of a warrior hardened by over a decade of combat greeted her, but she did not care for it. She internally recoiled from it. It repelled her when her thoughts lingered on the unknown face and form of her soulmate.

Breathing deeply of the dusty air, she closed the remained distance to stand beside his horse and returned his gaze. His eyes searched hers before he suddenly urged his mount into motion and galloped away in a cloud of dust with the other riders, leaving her nearly choking on the unclear air.

"Well? Did he like her?!" Her brother exclaimed as he clattered down the steps and stared after the men.

"The ceremony is over."

"But he didn't say anything!" Viserys protested.

"Trust me, Your Grace," the elder male explained. "If he didn't like her, we'd know."

She repressed the urge to vomit.


	3. Chapter 3

DGfleetfox: I'm glad you're enjoying the plot and hope that you continued to do so!

ThatOneGirlNoOneNotices: Well, I've never had that happen before, but I am happy that you are enjoying the stories and my writing style. You may also like my original work, which you can access via the link to my website on my profile page.

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**Chapter Two: Inauspicious Alliances**

The day of the wedding dawned as bright and warm as any other across the Narrow Sea. Upon a dais, Daenerys sat with her new husband the Khal to her right as well wishers presented their gifts. Chest after chest of presents was laid before them for viewing before being taken off to the side by a Dothraki. As she sat through the presentations, she tried to ignore the celebration below them, where women danced and any Dothraki warrior could mount them from behind during it. The food she also refused to glance at as flies buzzed around the different meat.

Remaining seemingly emotionless, she overheard the short conversation between her brother and their previous host:

"When do I meet with the Khal?" Her brother asked. "We need to begin planning the invasion."

"Khal Drogo has promised you a crown," the older man answered. "You shall have it."

"When?"

"When their omens favor war," the man explained.

Snorting, her brother responded exasperated, "I piss on Dothraki omens."

_Then, you should have chosen a less superstitious ally, brother dear_, she thought sarcastically.

"I've waited seventeen years to get my throne back," Viserys added and took a gulp of his wine before resuming his watch of the dancing.

_How can they stand to live this way?_ She thought as two men began fighting over one of the women. It turned into a duel in the dust. Drogo commented on it, but she couldn't understand the words. _Does he not care if his men are killed in fights such as these?_ As soon as she thought it, the victor sliced open the other man's gut before the dais. She suppressed the urge to gag at the smell that began to permeate the air as the victor cut off the braid of the dead man. The crowd cheered at the display.

"A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair," the older man explained to her brother after clapping.

Hiding her disgust, she looked down as her brother chuckled and two women threw themselves over the victor. Two others dragged the corpse away, leaving a bloody trail.

Thankfully, she found a man dressed in the style of Westeros presenting her with a pile of books.

"Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms for the new Khaleesi," he explained as he handed the worn leather and paper to her.

"Thank you, sir," she responded. "Are you from my country?" _Does he know of which house Sansa hales from? Has he met her or seen her? Don't think about it now, Dany. It'll do you no good. You belong to the Khal now._ But hope still rose from her chest up into her throat.

"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," he responded. "I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful King," he added with a glance to Viserys.

As the man left, their previous host waved his own servants forward with a large chest between them. Placing it at her feet, they opened it and scuttled backwards in a low bow as she reached for the round stone on her right.

"Dragons eggs, Daenerys," the older man explained, correcting her notion, "from the shadow lands. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful."

_But if I have dragons, somehow... _She looked up from the brilliant green miracle in her hands and thanked the man, "Thank you, magister."

Too soon, she sensed Drogo rise beside, and a glance confirmed it. Gently, Daenerys replaced the green egg in the box and rose to her new husband's side. As he proceeded down the few steps to the two waiting horses, she followed a few paces behind and fought to conceal the trembling in her bones. Gulping, she noticed things in detail as if time had slowed. The golden rays shone through the dust. The women of the dance closed in behind her, and the eyes of at least one roamed along her back, trying to discern what their Khal saw in this pale skinned, golden haired girl, who could not possibly survive the life of the Dothraki in the desert. The white, warm skin of the horse soothed her as she paused to stroke the creature. _A white horse as if this is a fairy tale… but then my soulmate would meet me at the end,_ she thought dazed as Drogo helped her into the side saddle of the mount.

"She is beautiful," Dany whispered in an attempt at thanks as Drogo walked to his own horse.

Her brother came to stand by her side as they readied to leave. He touched her leg, gaining her attention.

"Make him happy," Viserys whispered, more command than request, and she heard his meaning. _Ease the way for me to gain my crown as fast as possible._ Their eyes met briefly before Drogo led them off, and her last sight of her brother was of him smirking.

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The King's procession to King's Landing was only a few hours out from the capital, but after the revelation of her soulmate and the death of her direwolf, Sansa was no longer eager for the arrival in the summer city. _Will Joffrey find out when I marry him, and how can anyone think I want to marry him after what he did?!_ Pushing back the tears, she continued to ride close to her father and avoided Joffrey's glances. _Why can't I simply say no?! I mean surely – Arya must hate me now. This whole mess is my fault because I wanted to get in Joffrey's good graces when I still could in case he does find out… but that's all gone now too. Neither of our wolves would have killed that boy the Hound brought back. Lady in particular wouldn't have, and Joffrey was going to wound my sister with a __**sword**__! If I tell father when we arrive at King's Landing, will he let me go home with Arya instead of marrying? He must, even if the Queen refuses. The King is his friend after all._

As they rode through the gates, Sansa broke out of her thoughts to look around. Trees with fanned leaves the like of which she had never seen lined the way to the quarters of the Hand of the King, where their party came to a halt when the others continued to the palace. Before she could approach her father, a man accosted him with news of business.

Dinner was almost done when she finally found her chance after Arya had been sent to her room.

"As for you, love," he said and placed a parcel on the table next to her. Unwrapping it, she found a new doll smiling up at her. "The same doll maker makes all of Princess Marcella's toys." Silence filled the room. "Don't you like it?" Her father asked concerned.

"I haven't played with dolls, since I was eight," she answered. _And a toy is not going to help me with my feelings or my situation, father. Just please send the woman who's to watch Arya and me away, so we can talk about what's actually going on._

"Go check on Arya," her father dismissed the woman after a few minutes of silence spent picking at the dinner. Once the servant had left, Lord Stark turned to his eldest daughter and waited.

Glancing between him and her food, she began softly, "I don't want to marry Joffrey, father."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" He questioned and frowned confused.

"Because he nearly hit Arya," she burst out. "He wanted to join in the sparring between her and that boy, and he couldn't handle it." _Not quite true, but I can make it up later to both Arya and father._

"That's all that happened by the river, then?" He asked and searched her face as she nodded. "Well, he has been punished for his foolish showing off and lose of temper then by both a wolf and the King," Ned replied slowly as the woman came back.

_Oh, father, you don't understand, and I can't tell you! _"May I be excused?" Sansa asked.

"But you've hardly eaten anything," the older woman protested.

"Yes," Ned replied warily, "go. We'll talk about it again later."

As Sansa fled to her room, she caught her father's exhausted words: "Making war is easier than having daughters." _I'm sorry I can't tell you._ The tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she shut the door to her room and collapsed on the bed alone.

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Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys stood on sunset drenched cliff overlooking the waves. The wind whipped by her off the water crashing into the rocks below. _I am alone,_ she thought. _I am alone in the world, perhaps for the very first time in my life now that Viserys has betrayed me for the promise of a crown. I am alone._ The sea stretched out before her eyes against a blood red sky. _My land is across that water… and I have three dragon eggs. If I can make them hatch… the world will be mine to make of it what I will._

She heard Drogo coming closer behind her and turned to face him. He began with touching her hair and then moved on to untying her dress. Stiffening at the beginning of the unavoidable, she remained in one place as he worked with the cloth. He paused and wiped a tear on her cheek as he gazed at her face, confusing her with his small gesture of concern or kindness. She couldn't tell which.

"No," he said without any inflection of anger as he removed the trace of water.

"Do you know the common tongue?" She managed to say composed as he circled slowly around her, keeping eye contact and further undoing her dress.

"No," he responded.

"Is no the only word that you know?" She tried again.

"No," he repeated and threw his belt off to the side as he stood behind her.

_No. The answer to everything is no. How I wish so many things could be no!_ She gulped. She felt his rough hands draw the soft cloth down past her shoulders. Her breath hitched as the tears came faster. _Just don't think about it! Just don't think about it_, she chanted in her head as he maneuvered her body and accomplished the deed.

As it continued, she bit back her tears and steeled her resolve to get through it. _I shall have my dragons and my land… even if not that which my heart longs for the most,_ she vowed in the dying light of the day and the life that she had known.

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A/N: I hope you have all enjoyed the chapter! I'm trying to write far longer ones for this fic, although the scene between Arya and the boy sparring did not go well to where I cut it out. Anyway, have a nice day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three: The Khaleesi's Beginning**

The endless grass continued to stretch out before her as the column continued to move on beside her. Ser Jorah paused beside her.

"You need to drink, child," he gently chided her, "and eat."

Fishing out another dried piece of horse flesh from his saddle bag, he handed it to her. Grimacing, she took it and bit off a piece before slowly chewing the tough hide. _More horse flesh. Just what I need. Even the grass is beginning to look tempting._

"Isn't there anything else?" She questioned half-heartedly as he turned to go.

"The Dothraki have two things in abundance," he explained as he watched her, "grass and horses. People can't live on grass." _I'm beginning to doubt that,_ she thought as she forced the dried meat down her throat.

"In the shadow lands, they say there are fields of ghost grass with stalks as pale as milk that glow in the night," Jorah continued as they surveyed the land together. "Murders all other grass. The Dothraki believe that one day it'll cover everything and that's the way the world will in end." He glanced at her.

She returned it only briefly. _Death by pale grass, an interesting tale. _She looked at the Khal. _He believes that. We don't understand each other at all, yet I'm stuck here with him._ Jorah followed her gaze.

"It'll get easier," he told her. _Your words of comfort don't make it true, Ser Jorah,_ she thought in response as she urged her horse into a walk. _People can get use to anything… but I don't want to end that way._

When Daenerys arrived at their destination, the camp had already been set up. With Jorah's help, she dismounted, but she did not linger in his company longer than it took to say her thanks as the servant girls given to her helped her walk to her tent.

As dusk drew in and the girls left her alone, she sat on the soft furs and watched the small fire in the center of the hut cause shadows to dance on the walls of animal skins. _Riding by day and what passes for lovemaking here at night. I can't tell which is worse. The saddle chafes my legs, and Drogo makes the soreness worse after a day in the saddle. I don't see why any woman would ever want to marry, but it is my brother's wish… and I can't do otherwise now._

By morning, the soreness had worsened, but she was thankful that the Dothraki would not be traveling again today. Instead, she spent the morning with the servant girls tending to the abrasions on her hands from the reins and watching the eggs as they worked.

"Have you ever seen a dragon?" Daenerys asked.

"Dragon gone, Khaleesi," one of the girls answered.

"Everywhere? Even in the east?"

"No dragon. Brave men kill them," the girl answered. "It is known."

"It is known," the other two echoed.

"A trader from Qarth told me that dragons come from the moon," the girl, Doreah, on her left mentioned.

"The moon?" Dany asked incredulous. _What sort of nonsense is this?_

"He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi," Doreah responded. "That once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun, and it cracked from the heat. Out of it poured a thousand thousand dragons, and they drank the sun's fire."

"Hm," the girl on her left at her feet laughed. "Moon is no egg. Moon is Goddess, wife of Sun. It is known."

"It is known," the third echoed.

_Still, it is an interesting tale… perhaps there is some truth in it. An egg must need extreme heat to hatch._

"Leave me with her," Dany softly instructed the last two, who obeyed.

Once alone with Doreah, she asked, "Why did the trader from Qarth tell you these stories?"

"Men like to talk when they're happy," she responded as she bandaged the Khaleesi's palm. "Before your brother bought me for you, it was my job to make men happy."

"How old were you?" _She cannot be that old._

"I was nine when my mother sold me to the pleasure house," the girl answered.

"Nine?" Daenerys repeated in disbelief. _She could not even have begun to bleed then!_

Seeing the Khaleesi's face, Doreah chuckled softly, "I did not touch a man for three years, Khaleesi. First, you must learn." She glanced up at the blonde as she finished tying the bandage.

_"__Make him happy," her brother whispered by her horse._ "Can you teach me how to make the Khal happy?" Dany asked slowly.

"Yes," Doreah replied with a small smile.

"Would it take three years?" _Viserys would die of a meltdown within that hot head of his long before that if he didn't get his army._

"No."

"How soon can we begin?" She asked.

"Tonight, if you wish, Khaleesi," Doreah answered, and she nodded her ascent.

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"No, Khaleesi," Doreah gently admonished her as she gently took hold of the blonde's chin and brought her face to face. "You must look in his eyes, always. Love comes in at the eyes."

Gulping, Daenerys nodded as Doreah shifted her weight onto of her waist. _This should not be so hard. This should not feel so different from when I'm with Drogo._

"It is said that Irogenia of Lys could finish a man with nothing but her eyes," Doreah continued as she twined their fingers together.

"Finish a man?" Dany asked confused as much by the wording as by the sensation of Doreah's soft skin against her own where their palms touched.

Doreah gave her a look, and Dany laughed softly at her own naivety, "Oh."

"Kings traveled from across the world for a night with Irogenia," she continued and twined the fingers of their right hands together as well. "Magisters sold their palaces. Khals burned her enemies just to have her for a few hours. They say a thousand men proposed to her, and she refused them all," Doreah added as she leaned down until her breath blew strands of hair away from Dany's face and her knuckles brushed against the cloth beside the Khaleesi's head.

"Well, she sounds like an interesting woman," Dany managed to reply and gulped. _I shouldn't be enjoying this._ Searching for something to say in order to get Doreah farther away, she said, "I … I don't think that Drogo will like it with me on top."

"_You_ will make him like it, Khaleesi," Doreah answered with a slight thrust of her for emphasis, causing Dany's eyes to become wider. "Men want what they've never had, and Dothraki take slaves the way a hound takes a bitch. Are you a slave, Khaleesi?"

_To my brother, it seems._ She shook her head and only looked up when she felt Doreah place her hands on the girl's waist before she felt the servant begin moving her hips. Their eyes met.

"Then, don't make love like a slave," Doreah said.

Gulping and thankful that she did not blush easily, Dany watched the woman moving above her for a few seconds before reaching up and grabbing her around the middle with one arm to switch their positions.

"Very good, Khaleesi," Doreah congratulated her after her back hit the blankets, and Dany leaned down. "Out there, he is the mighty Khal, but in this tent, he belongs to you."

Doreah started to run a hand through Dany's hair, and the Khaleesi pulled back into a crouch.

"I don't think this is the Dothraki way," she said by way of excuse. _Why am I acting this way? I am married to the Khal, and my soulmate is thousands of miles away across the sea._

Doreah sat up and cupped her face as she said, "If he wanted the Dothraki way, why did he marry you?"

Her hand dropped to the side in the ensuing silence. Doreah moved out from under her and made her way to the entrance flap of the hut.

She paused by the fire and with a glance back, added, "I am here for you, Khaleesi, if you have need of me in place of your soulmate." At Dany's unconcealed surprise, Doreah continued, "It is not hard to see that yours is a woman, Khaleesi. You'll always long for her in some way, even if you come to care for the Khal."

The skin flap closed soon after her, leaving Dany alone with her thoughts about the implications of Doreah's words.

_"__You will always long for her…" It appears there is much more to the binding of soulmates than I was ever told, but how do I know if what she says is true? Can I dare ask Ser Jorah for confirmation? He is the only other one, I think, who would know more about this than me. Viserys would certainly hear nothing of it._

Lying on the bed, she continued to think until Drogo entered. _Remember what Doreah taught you,_ she thought as he neared. When no did not work, she used the broken Dothraki that she had garnered in order to be on top. As she moved, she looked into his dark eyes, searching for the love that Doreah had mentioned. Unsure of what she found, she knew instinctively that it was good and began to enjoy the lovemaking as Drogo rose to meet her.

_Perhaps, I will care for him eventually,_ she thought afterwards as she stretched on the bed. _But it feels only pleasant without the heat from when Doreah taught me. _Glancing at the sleeping man beside her, she thought sadly, _And if she is right, it will only ever be pleasant._

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A/N: I am not dead yet and hope you've enjoyed this next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four: Southern Ways**

_"__I can't marry Joffrey, father. I just can't," she sobbed into her pillow._

_ "__Sansa, he'll grow up soon enough. I promise," her father tried to soothe and gently ran his hand over her hair._

_She shook her head. "I don't like him."_

_He sighed. "Are you certain?"_

_ "__Yes," she quietly gasped between sobs._

_ "__Very well," he answered and slowly stood. "You won't have to if you really object. I'll never force a daughter of mine to marry anyone she dislikes, particularly like this and so far from the North." He kissed her head. "I'll find a way."_

_ "__Thank you, father," she whispered as he walked away._

_ "__But you and your sister are to travel back to Winterfell as soon as I can arrange it. Understand?" He asked as he lingered in the open doorway._

_ "__Yes," she answered._

_ "__Good," he said softly as he closed the door behind him._

Sniffling, she finally sat up in the darkness. _I'm sorry, father._ She swung her legs over the side of the bed and fumbled in the dark for the candle and match on the side table. Lighting it, she blew out the initial tiny flame, setting the burned stick in the small glass bowl, and set the wax stick back on the table. Holding her left arm below the flame and glancing around, she pulled up the sleeve of her dress and traced the soft skin of her wrist.

"Daenerys," she whispered under her breath and shivered. _We'll never meet unless you cross the sea. Perhaps then… but I would most likely be married and with child by some lord…but perhaps... you might be able and willing to still find me. Perhaps, I could have some small measure of happiness, no matter the size of the morsel, the crumb tossed to me by fate. At least, it won't be Joffrey. Perhaps, you'll even execute him when he arrives? He would deserve it, I think. He is no Prince Charming. I know that now. We were never meant to be, him and I. Perhaps you will come despite the odds._ She gently kissed her wrist before readying for bed.

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"Will I have to sit next to him at the tournament, father?" Sansa asked as they walked towards the track.

"No, only the royal family sits on the wooden dais. You don't have to worry. We'll be sitting on the benches below them," Ned answered.

Once seated with Arya and their chaperone, she glanced back at Joffrey, who leaned to the side to get a better look at her. She suppressed a shiver.

"Lover's quarrel?" A man with a goatee asked.

"I'm sorry. Do I…?" She trailed off.

"Sansa, dear," the old woman spoke up. "This is Lord Baelish. He's known-"

"An old friend of the family," he cut in and sat down beside her. "I've known your mother a long, long time." He smiled.

"Why do they call you 'Little Finger'?" Arya leaned over and demanded.

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed. _Can't you keep your mouth shut! I don't need more attention drawn to us…besides, it's rude!_

"Don't be rude," the old woman echoed her thought.

"No, it's quite alright," Baelish soothed before explaining, "When I was a child, I was very small, and I come from a very little spit of land called the Fingers, so you see," he chuckled and grinned. "It's an exceedingly clever nickname."

Sansa felt her skin crawl a bit, but before she could think much of it, she heard the King roar, "We've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss myself!"

"Quite an image," Baelish muttered.

Her nose crinkled at the idea as the Queen left and the crowd cheered the entering knights. She politely clapped as large man rode by the benches.

"Who's that?" She asked.

"Ser Gregor Clegane," Baelish answered as he glanced at the man. _Why can't you watch the tourney and not me so much? _"They call him the 'Mountain', the Hound's older brother."

"And his opponent?" She asked to distract him from herself as much as out of curiosity.

Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire," he explained. "Look how far he's come."

"Yes, yes. Enough of the bloody pomp," the King complained and waved his hand. "Have at it!"

_And this is our King,_ she thought in disgust. _Daenerys would be a far better ruler. But are you just saying that because she's meant for you, Sansa?_ She frowned.

"Not a fan of tourney's, my lady? Or is it the King's speech?" Lord Baelish asked.

She suppressed a jump. "I'm simply not used to the ways of the South yet, my lord," she answered. He nodded and looked back at the knights.

However, she couldn't suppress her scream as Ser Hugh fell into the dust before the benches, and frozen, she stared in horror at the wood protruding from the man's neck.

As men dragged his corpse away, Baelish leaned over and asked in her ear, "Not what you were expecting?" She didn't answer but stared down at her lap. "Has anyone ever told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound?" She glanced back at the scared man by the royal family, and Baelish followed her gaze. "Lovely little tale of brotherly love. The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent of violence. One evening, Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire. Gregor's toy." She shivered as he continued to whisper, "A wooden knight. Gregor never said a word. He just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there, while the boy screamed. While his face melted." Her stomach rolled, and bile rose up in the back of her throat, quietly gagging her.

He pulled a few inches away and ended, "There aren't many people who know that story."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise," she nearly stuttered quietly, betraying her innocence and naivety. _I should never have come south._

"No, please don't," he whispered back in warning. "If the Hound so much as heard you mention it… I'm afraid all the knights in King's Landing would not be able to save you." He moved back and resumed watching the tourney.

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"Hello, father," she greeted Ned as he sat down heavily beside her, and Lord Baelish retreated to a place behind them.

"Where's Arya?" He asked as he looked around the crowd.

"At her dancing lesson," Sansa answered and threw him a puzzled glance. _Wouldn't you know, father?_ She turned back to watch the next knight arrive to challenge the Mountain.

"The Knight of the Flowers," she commented as Ser Loras rode by and paused to hand her a flower, which she accepted with a small smile.

"Thank you, Ser Loras," she said before he rode away. _I hope you don't die as well today._

Thinking how the odds were against him and the fate of Ser Hugh, she grabbed Ned's arm and whispered, "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him. I can't watch."

Her father placed his hand soothingly over hers. "He's going to die," she insisted.

"Ser Loras rides well," her father answered back. _That doesn't seem to matter._

She watched stunned as Ser Loras hit the Mountain, who fell horse and all, collapsing the fence._ How?_

She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Lord Baelish whisper, "Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty really."

She caught her father gazing at him and felt the hand lift as she answered, "Ser Loras wouldn't do that. There's no honor in tricks." _Though tricks may be how I live from now on… at least until I return to the North._

"No honor and quite a bit of gold," he contested and leaned back as the Mountain drew a sword.

She gasped as he executed his black steed and watched in horror as he came after Ser Loras. She clenched her father's arm. _Please._ He didn't move, but she saw the Hound block his brother.

"Stop this madness in the name of your King!" The King bellowed. As the Mountain stalked off, he called, "Let him go!"

As Loras declared the Hound the victor, she stood and applauded with a grin. _He didn't die… perhaps the Hound is not as bad as Lord Baelish would have me believe. But then why the threat?_ She briefly glanced back before sitting down. _Another thing to worry about._

* * *

A/N: (Even thought the chapter is not a happy one.) Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:

Caitie-AwesomeHippie: It is going to be somewhat AU but not completely, and I really don't mind the rambling. :)

* * *

**Chapter Five: Who Shall Rule?**

"Do the Dothraki buy their slaves?" Daenerys asked suddenly. _I should learn more about these people I am to rule over… and what else is there to do as we ride?_

"The Dothraki don't believe in money," Ser Jorah answered. "Most of their slaves were given to them as gifts."

"From who?" She inquired. _Who would ever give gifts to these people? And why slaves and not horses?_

"If you rule a city," Ser Jorah began, "and you see the horde approaching, you have two choices. Pay tribute or fight." She glanced at him. "An easy choice for most." He continued, "Of course, sometimes it's not enough." _I can believe that._ "Sometimes, a Khal feels insulted by the number of slaves he's given. He might think the men too weak or the women too ugly. Sometimes, a Khal decides his riders haven't had a good fight in months and need the practice."

She watched as a rider whipped a passing slave, hauling supplies on his back. _I can see that. It must release energy that can't even be taken out on slaves after a while. _She looked up at the sky. _But there shouldn't even be slaves… even to stop them from fighting you. There should be a different way of life._

Taking a deep breath, she told Jorah, "Tell them all to stop."

He glanced at her and around. "You want the entire horde to stop. For how long?"

_Until injustice is gone would be best but impractical. Wouldn't help me flex my power either. Find out how much I wield and can eventually wield, if I build it. _"Until I command them otherwise," she answered and gazed at him.

"You're learning to talk like a queen," he commented. _Of course, I __**am**__ a queen. I am their Queen, and I am yours as well. Viserys couldn't hold the Iron Throne without me for even a week if he tried… but I am also a Khaleesi, and that is what I am here and now._

"Not a queen," she answered and took a breath, "a Khaleesi."

She slipped off her horse and strode into the tall foliage along the path. Weaving in and out of the green stalks, she arrived at a clearing and stood in the center.

_I have never seen grass such as this… if it even is grass. They don't have this in the Seven Kingdoms. Jorah confirmed that… Sansa wouldn't have seen this then. The Starks are in the cold North from what Jorah told me… though I have to be careful when I probe him for information._ She turned in a circle. Hearing a rustling and the quickening of hooves against the earth, she turned to find her brother with sword drawn charging through the growth.

"You dare?!" He shouted as he slowed the horse to a standstill. "You give commands to me! To _me_." He slipped off his horse and grabbed her by the throat.

"You do not command the Dragon," he hissed in her face, covering it with spit. "I am Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I don't take orders from savages or their sluts." He raised his sword, and his eyes bulged. "Do you hear me?"

He croaked as a whip lashed around his neck and pulled him off of her. _Do you hear me, Viserys? I __**do**__ command __**you**__. I command here. You__** must**__ obey __**me**__._ _But I may need you yet._

"Tell him I don't want my brother harmed," she commanded the translator as her savoir continued to choke Viserys.

When the rope loosened, Viserys, coughing, clutched his throat and sputtered to Jorah, "Kill these Dothraki… dogs!"

Jorah glanced at the man who had saved her and back at her brother but remained unmoving on his horse.

"I am your King!" Viserys raged.

"Shall we return to the khalasar, Khaleesi?" Jorah asked her as she stared at her brother.

Without a word, she mounted her horse and lead them back to the horde, leaving Viserys alone in the clearing and on foot.

_How far you have fallen, brother,_ she mused as they resumed riding through the foliage. _No one believes in you now. No one follows you. I am the Targaryen they wish to believe in and follow. I am the Khaleesi and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I shall sit on the Iron Throne, not you. You… you will be lucky if you make it out of this alive if you keep threatening me near my people._

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Daenerys laughed as she finally got the Dothraki word that Doreah had been teaching her as she braided her pale hair.

At the hand pressed against her breast, she asked, "What are you doing?" _I don't' need you for that now._

"When was last time you bleed, Khaleesi?" Doreah asked.

She glanced at the doorway as she thought before Doreah said, "Your change, Khaleesi." She placed a hand on her stomach, and the girl covered it with one of her own.

"_It's a blessing from the Great Stallion,"_ Doreah said before resuming braiding her hair.

_A baby. I'm going to have a baby. _With a pang, she glanced at her wrist. _Sansa… I might never meet her now. I might remain, wasting away in these grasslands. Viserys might get his army in the coming years, while I might remain here, tethered by children._

Later, as she laid against Drogo's side, she thought lazily, _Perhaps, it will not be so bad. Perhaps, Viserys shall remain a fool, and perhaps, I shall enjoy this child… this boy._

"_It's a boy," _she told Drogo.

"_How do you know?"_ He asked.

_"__I know,"_ she answered. _It's a feeling that I cannot explain. _He looked at her, and his eyes shone before he kissed her.

I-NorthernDragon-F

"City of the Horse Lords," Ser Jorah explained as they paused at the gates made of two statues of rearing horses.

"Pile of mud," her brother grumbled. "The best these savages can do."

"These are my people now," she said coldly. "You shouldn't call them savages."

"I'll call them what I like because they're my people," he retorted with a red face and flying spit. "This is my army." _It is mine._ "Khal Drogo's marching the wrong way with my army." He kicked his horse, spurring it down the path.

Shaking her head and sighing at his stupidity, she led her people down to the city several minutes later. _May he be speared like a pig by the time I get there._

"If my brother was given an army of Dothraki, could you conquer the Seven Kingdoms?" She questioned Jorah on the ride down.

"The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea," he intoned.

"But if they did," she pressed and shrouded her impatience.

"King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle, but the men advising him are different," Jorah relented.

"And you know these men?"

"I fought beside them once," he explained. "Long ago. Now, Ned Stark wants my head. He drove me from my land."

"You sold slaves," she commented.

"Aye," he answered.

"Why?" She asked.

"I had no money and an expensive wife," he explained and glanced at her. _No, I do not care about your wife, and I most certainly don't care for you in that way._

I-NorthernDragon-F

"You sent this whore to give me commands!" Her brother roared as he entered her tent and threw Doreah to the ground. "I should have sent you back her head!" _Why am I not surprised? No, wait, I am. I'm surprised it took him this long to make a fuss over something._

"Forgive me, Khaleesi. I did as you asked," the woman begged.

"Hush now, it's alright," she soothed the disheveled woman.

"Take her and leave us," she softly commanded another servant, who did so promptly.

_This will be like asking a mad man why he's mad._ She inquired, "Why did you hit her?"

"How many times do I have to tell you: _you_ do not command me?" He retorted and moved closer.

"I wasn't commanding you. I just wanted to invite you to supper," she explained as she gestured around the tent at the beginnings of the preparation.

"What's this?" He asked and picked up a leather vest.

"It's a gift. I had it made for you."

"Dothraki rags," he spat. "You're going to dress me now." _We're surrounded by Dothraki! What else would there be, you idiot!_

"But this stinks of manure!" He complained and threw it at her before doing the same to a gold necklace. "All of it!"

"Stop," she ordered. _You want commands, __**brother**__. Then, I'll actually command you._ "Stop. Stop it."

He shoved a finger in her face as he spat, "You want to turn me into one of them, don't you? Next, you'll want to braid my hair."

"You've no right to a braid. You've won no victories yet," she hissed.

His face flushed red, and he hissed, "Do _not_ talk back to me." He smacked her before pining her against the floor. "_You_ are a horse lord slut, and now, you've woken the Dragon."

Her hand closed around the gold necklace, and she swung it into his face, knocking him off of her. Quickly, she stood.

"_You_ are no dragon," she heaved in rage. "I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki. I am the wife of the Great Khal, and I carry his son inside me. _I_ am the Dragon and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms by right. The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands."

She glared at him as wide eyed, he stumbled out of her tent.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for the long absence. I spent most of Feb. traveling to tournaments with the team and have been only sporadically working on this. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's where the story really starts to diverge from the canon, and I will probably be updating only on weekends for the rest of the semester when I get the chance. Thank you to everyone who has not assumed I'm dead yet.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Fate Favors the Right Plot**

_Daenerys._ Her fingers glided over her the hidden secret of her skin.

"You stare at your wrist quite a bit, child," a woman spoke.

Tugging down her sleeve and eyes widening, Sansa whirled around to find Cersei standing in the doorway.

"Your Majesty," she quickly and breathlessly greeted her as she curtsied and gulped. _Please may she not press me. Please may she assume I am a silly girl pining after a fantasy._

"It's not my Joff, is it?" She asked with that common tilt of her head.

Gulping as she straightened, she whispered, "No."

Cersei smiled and glided a few steps closer. "No need to fear, child. We all must go through it. Only a few are lucky to be with their mate. I should hope you come to care for my son in such a way. He is smitten with you."

"Yes, Your Grace. He is a…most kind and considerate lad," she managed.

The blonde smiled. "Well, yes. He is." She held out a hand. "May I?"

Her hammered against the prison of her ribs. "Oh, Your Grace, really…it's only a simple boy. I know I shouldn't…but I can't help but think what he must be like…if he's anything like Joffrey…I should hope he is," she grasped at excuses.

The Queen smiled. "Still, I would like to see. Then, I'll show you mine. You are to be my daughter after all, and I know so little about you."

Sansa's face flushed as she stuttered, "I-It's r-r-really no-no t-tr-trouble."

Hand out, Cersei strode forward and grasped her covered wrist. Knowing it was useless to flee, Sansa remained still. _Please,_ she prayed, _by all the Gods, may she be called away, may she forget, may she not learn the name tainting my skin!_ She felt the cloth lifting, the air caressing bare skin, and then wetness as the oil was applied.

Yelping, she jumped as nails dug into her skin.

"_That whore!"_ The Queen hissed and grabbed her by the hair. Hauling her face within inches of her own, she continued, "You're mate is that _whore_!"

Shaking as tears pricked her eyes, she whispered, "Please, I didn't-"

"Silence!" Cersei roared. "I had thought you would make a fit bride for my boy." She flung Sansa to the ground. "But it appears I've only harbored another viper in my midst." Sansa scrambled to her feet. "Guards!"

For a second her mind blanked, but then, her instinct kicked in. She shoved the door out of her way and bolted down the hall as the Queen screeched, "You're just like your traitor father!"

She slowed as she detected the rasp of steel and shrill screaming from further down the hall. Stopping, she looked around the empty corridor. _Oh, Gods._ She took a step back, but darkness engulfed her and muffled her scream.

Thrashing, she soon felt arms wrap around her, and the cloth couldn't deter the rotten breath from invading her nostrils and mouth.

"Hello, pretty," a man chuckled as she was thrown over someone's shoulder. "We'll have a good time. Won't we, lads?" Laughter followed.

She screamed and kicked, but the grip only tightened. The interior of the bag grew lighter. _We must be outside now. Where are father's guards?_ She stilled as she remembered the Queen's words. _Father? Did he refuse Joffrey for me like he promised?_ She began to cry. _I'm sorry, father. I'm sorry._

"What took you so long?" a man asked, and whoever was carrying her tossed her to the ground, where she yelped. "Not like that, man! She's worth far more than your sorry hide!"

The man grunted, and she heard his feet shift.

"Very well. Is she intact?"

"Yes," came the grudging reply.

"The hundred Gold Dragons as agreed then," the first answered.

"Much appreciated, sir," her former captor said, and footsteps retreated away.

"Now, let's see," the man whispered, and she blinked at the dazzling light of the day as the bag came off. "Perfect."

Squinting, she found herself staring into the blue eyes of a handsome man who couldn't have been much past twenty and attired in the latest style with his long black hair in a ponytail. He hauled her to her feet and began to guide her through the deserted back street.

"Come along, dear," he prodded her in the ribs. "There's not much time."

"But who are you?" She looked around as his grip tightened at her back.

"Doesn't matter really. The name on your wrist however." He nodded at it her covered skin. "Now, that matters." He looked back down the street. "However, I suppose if it'll help. My name's Jon Baratheon, bastard extraordinaire and complete ghost to my father."

"King Robert?"

"Yes," Jon answered as the buildings gave way to the harbor, equally deserted.

"Where is everyone?"

"Probably hearing the news of Stark's impending execution."

She stopped and was promptly tugged forward. "Come on, I haven't all day."

As they neared a ship, a woman spoke, "Jon."

"Desini," he greeted her with a nod as a raven haired woman in a blue gown rounded the docked prow.

"Much danger lies ahead," she said in reply as they mounted the gangway, and she followed. "The Dragon is not one to be trifled with."

"But think of the treasure, Desini," he threw back as he led Sansa below decks. "To have delivered the mate of a Targaryen! The feast alone when they return to the Seven Kingdoms! If you don't wish to come, then more glory for me."

He pushed the redhead into a small room. "Now, you, my dear, stay here." He closed the door quickly, and she heard the lock click into place.

Trembling, she turned in a circle to look at the room. The bed appeared comfortable enough though only made to accommodate one person. Other than that, there was only a chamber pot and a small desk with a chair. A window directly opposite the door looked out over the harbor.

She felt the deck begin to sway. _We're moving._ Shaking, she sat on the bed and gazed out the window as the ship pulled out of the dock and swung around towards the open sea. The port lay before her eyes and gave way to the rest of the city as the ship began to leave King's Landing behind. As the spires grew distant, she could just make out the tiny black specks of figures racing along the streets to the docks, but soon, even that was gone. The last spire disappeared into a blue haze, turning into the sea stretching on forever.

She glanced at her hands. Gently, she pulled the cuff back from her wrist. The lettering was gone, but she traced the word before looking back out the window.

"Across the sea," she whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I am very sorry for the long wait. I can only say finals, a camping trip, and an unexpected relationship aside from the library being slow in getting the dvds for me to rewatch and refresh my memory.

Dothraki dialogue is written in italics.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: It Begins**

The ship rocked gently in the current like the lullabies of her childhood in the north, soothing her to sleep even as her mind raced along. _What could they want? They said they were taking me to a Targaryen. Daenerys?_ Her heart sped up. _Don't get your hopes up, Sansa. They could have said that solely for your benefit._ Burrowing further into the covers, she yawned and closed her eyes.

_Wait!_ She snapped bolt upright. _Is the door locked?_ Slowly, she slid out of bed and shivered as her feet touched the floor in the dark. _When did it get so cold?_ Wrapping her arms around herself, she padded to the door. Breath twisting into mist, she rested a hand on the rough knob. She twisted it experimentally. It didn't budge. She sighed, misting the air. _That's good._

She yelped and pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest. Eyes widening, she stared at the knob as it began to glow to a hot red. _It's not melting. How is that possible? Why is it burning now?_ She backed away.

"I told you I want him dead," a woman roared as the door flung open. _Cersei?_

She gasped as the heat washed over her. Her eyes narrowed as golden light fell through the open door and revealed a balcony overlooking King's Landing.

"I want them both dead," Cersei hissed at a guard.

"My Lady, Ned Stark is already slated for execution." He trembled.

"The girl," she hissed as she stalked over to the railing. "I want the girl."

"There's no trace of her, but I'm sure-"

"Find her!" Cersei shrieked and wheeled around. In two strides, she was in his face. "Or so help me your family will feel what it's like to be branded traitors and whipped out of the city to their deaths. I'm certain the scum of the gutter will enjoy your wife before her death, while you watch," she spat before whirling away and into the palace.

Gasping, she sat up in a pool of sweat and clutched at her chest through the soaked under gown. Her eyes darted around the room. Finding somewhat familiar shapes in the gloom, she found herself relaxing a little.

_Oh, Sansa, what have you gotten yourself into._

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Lying in the dark beside Drogo, her mind again wandered back over the past few days as yet again her wrist itched. Absentmindedly, she scratched.

_"__He won't be a true Targaryen," Viserys muttered._

_ "__The Khal of Khals."_

_She smiled as her people chanted the name of her son, growing stronger inside her._

_ "__They love her," her brother whispered as his eyes widened at the sight._

_I said I was better than you, brother, and I proved it that night in that smoky tent with horse blood running down my chin. You saw how powerful I had already become… and glimpsed how powerful I will become._

_ "__She truly is a queen tonight," Jorah answered him._

_You were right, Ser Jorah. He realized it. He feared it._

She ran a hand over her growing belly.

_"__I am the dragon! I want my crown!" The tantrums of a little boy who finally was refused a cherished toy after receiving everything else he wanted, after getting his way every single time._

_"__A crown fit for a king," Drogo announced to the kneeling Viserys, who cowered and cried before the burning gold of the Dothraki belt in the caldron._

_ "__Look away, Khaleesi."_

_ "__No," she answered coolly, calmly. Not a single muscle of her face twitched as she watched the man who had been her brother and her tormentor._

_ "__Dany. Dany tell them. Make them," he pleaded as his feet kicked out, trying to force himself back from his wish. "Dany please!"_

_No. Never. I need to see this, she thought. I need to know what men look like as they die. I need to see the threat of my brother ended for good._

_He screamed as molten gold doused his head in a rush, a deadly, royal shower. Just as he had asked. A crown fit for a king covered his head as it hit the earth. What remained of his steaming skull was red as the melted flesh seeped onto the dirt before his body was dragged from the tent and discarded in the wilds beyond the camp for the carrion to feast on. It would be a good night for the scavengers of the desert._

_ "__Khaleesi?"_

_ "__He was no dragon," she answered Jorah afterwards. "Fire cannot kill a dragon."_

_Fire cannot kill a dragon,_ she thought. _I can't recall if I've ever been burned._

She looked at her wrist as it began to itch again. _Why? Why can't it stop for a few minutes? _Giving up, she ignored the persistent sensation in favor of trying to sleep.

I-NorthernDragon-F

Yawning, Sansa sat and scratched at her wrist as the sun rose higher over the water outside her porthole. She ignored the shouts, the curses, and the general scurrying as the ship sailed further across the calm waters. She glanced at the small mirror and cringed at the rumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes, and hurricane hair, making her look like some old fisherwoman who'd spent all night waiting for her husband to return with the next catch after a storm.

_Fantastic, Sansa. Great way to meet your soulmate…or any Targaryen for that matter._

Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to bring it to some semblance of order. _At least that man confirmed it was Daenerys who they're bringing me to when he brought my breakfast._ She cringed at the memory of the door flying open and him dropping the tray on her half asleep form.

_Well, what did you expect, Sansa? The king's hospitality and politeness from pirates… or kidnappers? You just have to be alive and in relatively good health… and undamaged. _She winced at the thought as her legs pressed tight against one another. _Let's not think about that._

Glancing once more at the mirror, she sighed. _I think that's as good as it'll get without a comb._ She scratched again at her wrist.

_What was it Father said about the Targaryens? Where they are?_ Her brow furrowed. _It wasn't any of the cities like Davos. Didn't he mention that Daenerys married a Dothraki lord?_ She wrapped her arms around her stomach as nausea rolled over her. _And pregnant._ She felt bile roll up her throat before she swallowed it back down.

_I should sleep some more, I think._ Lying back down, she rolled over onto her side. _May she still want me by the time I get there._

I-NorthernDragon-F

The market was crowded with people and vendors. Birds chirped in their cages as customers gawked at them and haggled over prices. Strange pipe music filled the air. Nothing like she had heard before, but none of it concerned her.

"Can't you help me make him understand?" She asked Jorah as they walked.

"The Dothraki do things on their own time for their own reasons," he answered quickly with a furrowed brow. "Have patience, Khaleesi." _Yes, but why are distracted today? You're not looking at anything to buy._ "We will go home. I promise you."

"My brother," she began and searched for the words, "… was a fool, I know, but he was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

Jorah chuckled.

She scowled briefly. "Have I said something funny, sir?"

"Your ancestor, Khaleesi, Aegon the Conqueror, didn't seize the Kindgoms because they were his right. He had no right to them. He seized them because he could."

"And because he had dragons," she interjected as an idea came to her. _I have dragon eggs… I could have dragons by my side when I return._

He sighed in concession. "Having a few dragons makes things easier."

"You don't believe it," she accused, and he looked back at her.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi?" He asked wearily. When no answer came, he continued, "I believe what my eyes and ears record. As for the rest, it was three hundred years ago. Who knows what really happened? Now, if you'll pardon me, I'll seek out the merchant captain see if he has any letters for me."

"Well, I'll come with you." _Westeros is my land as well._

"No, no. Don't trouble yourself," he said as he moved off. "Enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you soon enough."

She watched him disappear into the crowd.

Turning to her handmaidens as they continued to walk through the crowds, she asked, "Is Ser Jorah behaving oddly, do think?"

"He is worried, I'd say, Khaleesi," one answered.

"I agree," Doreah, the second one, interjected. "He wants to go home."

She nodded. _Yes, but so do I. Is he planning something? Something without Drogo's involvement?_ She frowned but pushed the thought away as a wine merchant began gesticulating at her.

"_A taste for the Khaleesi?" _He stepped off the steps.

_"__I have sweet red from Dorne, my lady. One taste and you'll name your first child after me." _He grabbed a goblet from behind him and held it out to her.

"My son already has his name, but I'll try your summer wine," she answered in the tongue of Westeros as his eyes widened. "Just a taste."

"My lady, you are from Westeros," he stated the obvious.

"You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of the House Targaryen," Doreah stated. "Khaleesi of the Rider Men and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

He bowed and whispered, "Princess."

"Rise," she commanded. "I'd still like to taste that wine." _Do all the people of Westeros act this submissive and awestruck?_

"That?" He asked and threw away the contents of the cup. "Dornish swill. Not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, nectar of the Gods." He briefly waved his hands in the air. "Let me give you a cask. A…a gift." He rushed up the steps.

Chuckling, she answered, "You honor me, sir." _I really don't need a whole cask._

He replied as he lugged a barrel down, "The honor… the honor is all mine."

"Uh-uh," one of the riders said and took it from him.

"You know many people in your homeland pray for your return, Princess," the merchant informed her as he bowed again.

"I hope to repay your kindness someday."

"_Put down that cask._"

Turning, she found Jorah step from the crowds to her side.

Glancing between him and the merchant, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"I have a thirst. Open it," he explained as he gestured at the cask, which was placed in the merchant's arms.

"The wine is for the Khaleesi. It's not for the likes of you," he said.

"Open it," Jorah said again.

As the merchant saw that Daenerys said nothing, he hurriedly placed the cask on the ground and opened it.

"Pour," Jorah directed. _Jorah, what is it?_

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without giving it time to breath –" _He's hiding something._

"Do as he says," Daenerys ordered.

"As the Princess commands." He took out a glass and opened the bottom of the barrel.

_There's nothing odd in the color._ She glanced at Jorah as the man finished filling the glass.

After receiving the glass, Jorah smelt it.

"Sweet, isn't it?" The merchant asked, and he nodded. "Can you smell the fruit, sir?"

He held the cup away. "Taste it, m'lord." She glanced at Jorah. "Tell me that that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue."

After placing his lips against it, Jorah held it out to the man and said, "You first."

The man's eyes widened briefly. "Me?" He whispered before smiling and shaking his head. "I'm afraid I'm not worthy of the vintage. Besides' it's a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wears." He laughed.

_Poison._ She commanded coldly, "You. Will. Drink."

He gave a little nod as he saw no argument in her eyes. Without showing anything but good-naturedness, he took the cup and gave a little toast to both her and Jorah.

Just as the cup was about to touch his lips, he threw it down, grabbed a barrel, and tossed it at them as he ran, but he didn't get far. One of her riders wrapped a whip around his leg and brought him hard to the ground face first. Three held him down as she arrived with Jorah.

"Come," he said as he led her out of the market.

Later after nightfall, she entered the largest tent, which served as a meeting hall, with Jorah behind her. She found the man still tied to a pole in the center of the room.

"When the Khalasar rides, he'll be lashed to the horses and forced to run along behind for as long as he can," Jorah explained as they looked at the merchant.

"And when he falls?" She asked.

"I saw a man last nine miles once," he answered.

"King Robert still wants me dead."

"Though he is the first, he won't be the last." Jorah nodded at the bound and bloody faced man.

"I thought he'd leave me alone…. Now that my brother is gone."

"He will **never **leave you alone," Jorah answered. "His assassins will follow you everywhere. He will **never** abandon the hunt." _That just makes it more difficult then._ "You're a Targaryen. The last Targaryen. Your son will have Targaryen blood and with forty thousand riders behind him."

Her hand crept over her stomach. "He will not have my son."

"He will not have you either, Khaleesi," Jorah stated with a glance at her.

She scratched at the returning itch on her wrist as riders came followed by her husband.

"_Moon of my life,"_ he said and cupped her face. _"Are you hurt?"_ She wrapped a hand around his wrist and shook her head. _No, my Sun._ He kissed her head before stepping away.

"_Jorah the Andal,"_ Drogo began as he looked at the man, "_I heard what you did. Choose any horse you wish, it is yours."_ He placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "_I make this gift to you."_

Then, he stood before Daenerys and placed a hand on her stomach. "_And to my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will also pledge a gift." _He met Daenerys eyes before letting go and backing away into the middle of the room. _I will give him the iron chair that his mother's father sat upon."_ He paced around the fire. "_I will give him the Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, will do this. I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends and ride the wooden horse across the black salt water as no Khal has done before."_ He stepped in front of the tied man and sprayed spit over him as he yelled. "_I will kill the men in iron suits and tear down their stone houses."_ As the riders cheered, he resumed moving around the fire.

_He's going to give me our throne. He's going to give our son the throne too._ Tears pricked her eyes.

"_I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak."_ His face contorted from anger. "_This, I vow. I, Drogo, son of Bharbo. I swear before the Mother of Mountains as the stars look down in witness." _He smacked his chest. "_As the stars look down in witness!"_

Their eyes met across the flames as he heaved. She raised her head a little, but it was her eyes that said how grateful she was.

* * *

A/N: Phoebe134: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I actually didn't expect the pairing to work either. I had originally intended it to be Arya/Daenerys or

Margaery /Daenerys, but it didn't work out when I tried. This did, and I find it amazing the more I write.

Arsenal: The first meeting is one of the scenes I'm really excited to write and to see what everyone thinks. Unfortunately, we're still a ways off from that, but I hope you continue to enjoy the story in the meantime!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight: The Turning**

They had ridden since dawn after Drogo's vow, and she watched from a hilltop as the riders attacked a village. Now, she walked among the ruins.

"_Lamb men make good slaves,_" the rider accompanying her explained. "_Khal Drogo will make a gift of them to the slavers, and the slavers will give us gold… and silk, and steel._"

_For the ships to bear us across the sea._ She stepped over broken pots along what must have been the main path through the village.

As they came to the end of the path, she saw women herded into a pen and dragged about by the hair. Her stomach turned.

"Jorah make them stop," she commanded.

"Khaleesi?"

"You heard me." _They don't deserve to be treated as less than animals,_ she thought as the women were thrown against the nearest standing walls.

"These men have shed blood for their Khal. Now, they will claim their reward," Jorah explained. _Women are not trophies, Ser Jorah. They are not things to be given as rewards… nor as my brother gave me to the Khal even._

"_She is a lamb girl, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor. If her wailing offends the Khaleesi, I will bring you her tongue,"_ the rider commented.

She repressed the urge to snort at the word honor. _If this is what all men think, then I shall change it… and it is the belief of the riders that offends me._

"Princess," Jorah began as he took a step closer, "you have a gentle heart, but this is how it's always been."

_Things change._ Struggling to not grit her teeth, she said with the biting wind of the north in her voice, "I do not have a gentle heart, sir."

She paused. "_Do as I command or Khal Drogo will know the reason why."_

The riders behind her obeyed her and forced the others off of the captured women. Jorah glanced at her before joining them in carrying out her command.

As he helped a woman to her feet, he asked Daenerys, "What do you want done with them?"

"Bring her to me… and those women there." She pointed at the pen corralling the others.

He glanced back at the enclosure before answering, "You cannot claim them all, Princess."

"I can," she insisted coolly. _I shall not rule over such broken beings and destruction, Jorah. I will set things right where I can. _"And I will."

With that, she left to find Drogo at the center of the village.

She heard the insults before she entered the gate of what must have been the meeting place of the village.

"_Light of my life,"_ he began. "_Mago says you have taken his spoils, a daughter of a lamb man who was his to mount. Tell me the truth of this."_

"_Mago speaks the truth, my sun and stars," _she answered. _Though she is __**not**__ a spoil._ "_I have claimed many daughters this day, so they cannot be mounted." May he understand or be willing to._

"_This is the way of war," _he said. "_These women are slaves now to do with as we please."_

"_It pleases me to keep them safe. If your riders would mount them, let them take them for wives."_

_ "__Does the horse mate with the lamb?" _Mago asked.

"_The dragon feeds on horse and lamb alike,"_ she countered.

"_You are a foreigner," _he responded. "_You do not command me."_

_ "__I am Khaleesi. I do command you,"_ she said coldly.

"_See how fierce she grows?" _Drogo asked the man as the Khal chuckled. "_That is my son insider her, the stallion that will mount the world, filling her with his fire. I will hear no more," _he concluded.

_A dragon has fire of its own, _she thought as she won.

"_Mago, find somewhere else to stick your cock," _Drogo dismissed the rider, who spat at his feet.

"_A Khal who takes orders from a foreign whore is no Khal," _Mago challenged as he leveled his blade.

_And a man who angers an undefeated Khal is an idiot, _she thought as she stepped back, and a rider stepped between Mago and the Khal.

"_Move," _Drogo commanded his defender. "_Move." _The man obeyed.

Drogo nodded before addressing Mago, "_I will not have your body burned. I will not give you that honor."_ Rising, he lifted his own blade, and Mago's blade scratched his shoulder. "_The beetles will feed on your eyes. The worms will crawl through your lungs."_

Mago's blade disappeared from the Khal's shoulder as it whirled around his head, never coming close to Drogo.

"_The rain will fall on your rotting skin…"_ Drogo drew two daggers and dropped them. "… _until nothing is left of you but bones." _He dove back in with only his fists.

Again, Mago's blade twisted through the air in a hopeless attempt to hit him.

"_First, you have to kill me!" _Mago shouted as he lunged, and Drogo grabbed the blade.

"_I already have," _he answered and sliced Mago's throat with it. Then, he ripped out the esophagus before dropping it into the dust and sitting back down on his thrones.

Kneeling before him, Daenerys spoke, "_My sun and stars, you are wounded." _He looked at his shoulder.

"_A scratch… moon of my life."_

_ "__Where are the healers?" _She demanded of a rider.

"_This is the bite of a fly," _Drogo dismissed it.

"_I can help the great rider with his cut," _one of the captured women said.

"_The Khal needs no help from slaves who lie with sheep," _the rider said.

"_She is mine. Let her speak," _Daenerys insisted. _I shall not lose him simply because you believe her worthless unless you're mounting her._

"Thank you, Silver Lady," the woman thanked her as she stepped forward.

"Who are you?" Daenerys asked.

"I am named Mirr Maz Durr," the woman answered. "I was the god's wife of this temple."

"_Witch," _the rider said as explanation and then spat at her.

"My mother was god's wife here before me," Mirr continued. "She taught me how to make healing smokes and ointments. All men are from one flock as my people believe. The Great Shepherd sent me to work for you - "

The rider slapped her and then said, "_Too many words. A witch's words poison the ears."_

"His wound must be washed and sown," she finished after rubbing her jaw. "Or it will fester."

Looking up at him, Daenerys said, "_Let her clean your wound, my sun and stars… It makes me hurt to see you bleed."_

Taking a deep breath, he looked up and nodded at the woman, who approached. Daenerys watched as she cleaned the wound as she sat on nearby chair that had been brought.

The wind played with her hair as the itching of her wrist returned and intensified.

* * *

A/N: If any of you wish to read more of my stuff than is on here, here's a link to one of my novels: Resistance-Book-One-Adriana-Gay-ebook/dp/B012D5KZ7M?ie=UTF8&amp;keywords=resistance%20book%20one&amp;qid=1464971788&amp;ref_=sr_1_9&amp;s=books&amp;sr=1-9 . It will be free for a few days starting tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Nine: The End… Or Perhaps the True Beginning**

The journey across the barren lands had taken its toll. She could tell as she watched Drogo sway atop his mount.

_I don't understand. She cleaned the wound. I watched her. Nothing foul was placed within it. I am sure of it._ Nervously and chewing her lip, she followed each twitch of her sun and stars as they continued under the glaring sun.

"_My lord…"_ she trailed off as he didn't answer.

She tried again, "_My sun and stars…. _Drogo."

Still, he did not answer. Instead, he tilted too far and fell of the horse into the dust of the trail.

Halting the column, she dismounted and knelt by his side.

"_My horse…"_ he muttered as his head jerked from side to side.

His brother knelt on his other side. "_Blood of my blood…"_

_"__No, I must ride,"_ Drogo muttered.

"_He fell from his horse," _a rider commented. "_A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal."_ He shook his head.

_He's tired, that's all. He needs to rest,"_ Daenerys said. "_We've ridden far enough today. We'll camp here."_

_If he is seen as weak, I will lose them all. They will leave me alone and pregnant in this wasteland. To them, a woman cannot be Khal, cannot rule them._ She looked down at Drogo and at the sweat on his brow. _I need to find a way for the fever to break or I will lose everything._

_"__This is no place to camp," _the rider retorted. "_A woman does not give us orders. Not even a Khaleesi."_

"_We'll camp here," _she commanded. "_Tell them Khal Drogo commanded it-"_

_"__You do not command me, Khaleesi," _he insisted.

Her eyes narrowed. Turning to Drogo's brother she commanded, "_Find Mirri Maz Duur. Bring her to me." I'll deal with him later._

_"__The witch? I'll bring you her head, Khaleesi," _the rebellious rider retorted.

"_Bring her to me unharmed. Khal Drogo will hear why you defied me_," she said slowly and glared at him over her shoulder.

The rider left. _Either to follow my orders or to leave one he believes weak… either way it does not bother me. A dragon is not weak._

The tents went up around her as riders moved the Khal to the bed in his own tent. She knelt by his side as he continued to mutter unintelligibly in the grip of the fever's fire.

"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked as he entered.

Quickly wiping away the tears, she looked up. "Come."

As he neared, she commented, "He's very strong. No one understands how strong he is."

Frowning, Jorah pulled out a knife and knelt on the Khal's other side. Carefully, he slipped the blade under the bandage and lifted it off Drogo's chest, revealing the red, rotting wound. She glanced away and breathed heavily. _This is the end… yet it can't be the end. Not after everything._

"He will die tonight, Khaleesi," Jorah told her.

"He can't," she whispered. _Not after everything I've sacrificed to get her. Not after my own brother sold me for an army. Not after I became pregnant with his son. Not after… _She swallowed and placed her hand over her other wrist. _Not after giving up all hope of a true happy ending._ "He can't. I won't let him," she insisted loudly with her voice unwavering.

"Even a queen doesn't have that power." He stood. "We must go quickly. I've heard there's a good port in-"

"I won't leave him," she cut Jorah off.

"He's already gone, Khaleesi," he answered with a nod at the barely conscious Khal.

She swallowed. "Even if he dies, why would I run? I am Khaleesi, and my… my son will be Khal after Drogo," she said, voice rising at the end.

"This isn't Westeros where men honor blood," Jorah explained calmly. "Here, they only honor strength. They'll be fighting after Drogo dies." She glanced down at her sun and stars. "Whoever wins that fight will be the new Khal… and won't want any rivals. Your boy will be plucked from your breast and given to the dogs," he finished in a whisper.

"I. Won't. Leave. Him," she whispered back and stared at Jorah.

He nodded as Mirri entered, followed by the rebellious rider from earlier.

"The wound has festered," she said with a glance at it as she knelt.

"_You did this, witch_," the rider said before starting to draw his sword.

"_Stop it_," Daenerys ordered, and he obeyed with wide disbelieving eyes glancing between the two women as if questioning the Khaleesi's motives. "_I don't want her hurt_."

"_No? No? You don't want her hurt?" _He sneered. "_Pray we don't hurt you, too. You let this witch put her hands on our Khal."_ He kicked Mirri.

"_Rein in your tongue. She is still your Khaleesi_," Jorah said with his hand over his sword hilt.

"_Only while the blood of my blood lives_," he shouted as he glanced at his older brother. He finished softly, "_When he dies, she is nothing_."

She rose to her feet and asserted, "_I have never been nothing. I am the blood of the dragon_."

He briefly smiled dismissively and looked down at the dying Khal before looking back into her eyes. "_The dragons are all dead, Khaleesi."_ With a last glance at Drogo, he left.

"I think you should wear your armor tonight, sir," she commented to Jorah.

"I think you're right," he agreed before bowing and leaving.

"You save me once again," Mirri said in thanks.

"And now you must save him," she said and knelt back down.

"He is beyond a healer's skills. All I can do is ease his passing-"

"Save him, and I will free you, I swear it," she cut her off. "You must know a way…. Some magic."

The woman stilled and looked up. "There is a spell. Some would say death is cleaner."

Daenerys looked at Drogo. "Do it….Save him."

"There is the price," Mirri stated as she watched the Khaleesi.

"I'll give you gold. Whatever you want-"

"It's not a matter of gold. This is blood magic," the older woman explained. "Only death pays for life."

Her heart raced. _They sent you, didn't they? From across the sea to kill me._ "My death."

"No, not your death, Khaleesi," she answered calmly, and her eyes glanced down briefly. "Bring me his horse," she continued to Doreah, who sat behind her. Daenerys nodded her assent, sending the woman after the animal.

Her riders ripped a hole through the tent to bring the horse in. They held it as it tried to rear and run.

"Khaleesi, do not do this thing," one of the riders begged. "Let me kill this witch."

"Kill her, and you kill your Khal," she answered.

"This is blood magic," he insisted. "It is forbidden."

"I am your Khaleesi," she insisted back. "I **tell** you what is forbidden."

Mirri murmured strange words as she knelt by Khal Drogo, and Daenerys wrist began to itch fiercely. Unable to scratch it, she grimaced and continued to watch the ritual.

"Go. Now," Mirri commanded.

"Take her and leave," she said to the rider and gestured at Doreah.

As he hesitated, she repeated coldly, "Take her."

He obeyed and led her out of the tent.

"You must go also, Lady," Mirri said. "Once I begin to sing, no one must enter the tent. The dead will dance here tonight."

Slowly, she walked over and brushed the hair on the Khal's brow before looking up and saying, "No one will enter."

The woman nodded and muttering, slit the throat of the horse, bathing both Drogo and Daenerys in its' warm blood.

"Bring him back to me," she said before leaving.

"What have you done?" Jorah asked in a whisper when she was outside.

"I have to save him."

"We could have been ten miles away from here by now and on to a port," he said and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You would have been safe."

"_This must not be done," _Drogo's brother said as he pushed through the crowd to the front.

"_This must be," _she answered.

_"__Witch,"_ he hissed.

As a rider placed a hand on his shoulder, he shoved his elbow into the rider's face before walking forward.

"_No. You can't," _Daenerys blocked his way. _I won't have you ruin everything._

He pushed her aside into the dust and kept moving towards the tent.

Drawing his sword, Jorah spoke, "_No further, horselord."_

Behind him, Daenerys panted in pain, but he ignored her as the rider attacked.

Black spots danced before her vision as the clash of steel on steel filled her ears. She placed a hand on her stomach. _The pain… the fall… my son._

"Jorah," she whispered.

"I'm here, Khaleesi," he answered by her side. _He must have killed Drogo's brother._

"The baby… he's coming," she gasped.

"Fetch the midwives," he ordered the people standing around.

"They will not come. They say she is cursed," a rider said as he helped Jorah lift her.

"They'll come or I'll have their heads," he insisted.

"The witch," the rider suggested. "She can bring baby. I hear her say so."

_No… Jorah… please._ Her vision was greying. She couldn't hear, but she felt the movement of her arms swinging as Jorah walked. _Jorah. _She blacked out.

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The dawn's light woke her, and she found Ser Jorah looking down with a drawn face and puffy eyes.

"Where is he?" She asked.

"The boy did not live," he whispered.

Her body shook as she absorbed the information. _Rheago…my son._

"Tell me," she ordered.

"What it there to tell?" He asked softly.

"How did my son die?" She shouted.

"He never lived, my Princess," he explained after a sigh. "The women say…"

"What do the women say?" She whispered as she continued to shake.

"They say the child was-"

"Monstrous," Mirri Maz Durr finished for him. "Twisted. I pulled him out myself. He was scaly like a lizard. Blind with leather wings of a bat. When I touched him, the skin fell from his bones. Inside, he was full of grey worms."

Jorah turned and gripped his sword.

"I warned you," she continued after a pause. "That only death can pay for life. You knew the price."

Daenerys shook with anger, unable to scowl at the woman before her. _I knew it, but I did not enter this tent willingly._

"Where is Khal Drogo?" _I hope for your sake he __**is**__ alive._ "Show him to me. Show me what I bought with my son's life."

"As you command, Lady," she answered. "Come. I will take you to him."

"Time enough for that later," Jorah tried to soothe.

"I want to see him now," Daenerys insisted.

As she stepped into the light, she beheld only a scant handful of tents.

"The Khalasar is gone." Her hopes plummeted along with her stomach.

"A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal," Jorah echoed Drogo's brother. "The Dothraki follow only the strong. I'm sorry, my Princess."

They followed the woman across the dust to the edge of the plateau, where they found Drogo lying and seemingly looking out across the land.

"Drogo," she called and knelt by his side.

She looked into his eyes but saw not spark. No recognition, no life even. Just a glazed white stared back at her.

"He lives. You asked for life," the woman said as if chiding a silly girl. "You paid for life."

Daenerys growled and turned around. "This is not life."

The woman shrugged and left. "You paid for life, Khaleesi. He is alive. He breathes."

"Leave us," she commanded, and Jorah obeyed.

_This is not life. I am sorry, my sun and stars. _Crying silently, she picked up a pillow and gently laid it over his face before pressing down. As his body trembled, she continued to hold the soft material over him until a minute had passed beyond the last shiver. Then, she sat back and sobbed.

_How? How could it all be gone? My son, my husband, any chance at Westeros, at even glimpsing my soulmate?_

For how long she sat until the only solution came, she did not know, but when she returned, the few who remained obeyed her instantly.

Building a pyre for the dead Khal, they placed him at the center and tied the older woman at the top. The dragon eggs were laid at the Khal's side as night fell. When she returned dressed in a pale gown from her tent, they had circled the structure with lit torches and were waiting for her.

"My Queen," Jorah began, "I vow to serve you and obey you. To die for you if need be, but let him go, Khaleesi. I know what you intend. Do not."

"I must," she answered as she looked at him and shook her head. "You don't understand."

"Don't ask me to stand aside as you climb on that pyre," he begged. "I won't watch you burn." _You believe you love me, Jorah, but you don't… and you truly don't know me._

"Is that what you think?" She asked in return.

When he said nothing, she kissed his cheek before addressing her small domain, "You shall be my Khalasar. I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars, go if you wish. No one will stop you, but if you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, as husbands and wives."

She watched several leave before continuing, "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming."

"You will not hear me scream," the woman retorted from her bound post.

"I will," Daenerys tossed over her shoulder. "But is not your screams that I want, only your life." _So you may not hurt she who I care for the most though I have never laid eyes upon her. Not even in a dream._

A rider handed her a torch, and turning, she approached the pyre and lit the outer circle around it. Silent, she extinguished the torch in the dust. She watched the fire spread to the main structure and the woman tied to it.

With a glance at Jorah, who was staring at her, she walked forward over the two circles to the main structure. He did not stop her nor did he call out to her. Silently, she thanked him for that.

The flames touched her but did not burn, just as she had predicted. She smiled as she continued till she was in the heart of the small burning world beside her dragon eggs. Kneeling beside them, she looked around and could see nothing that did not dance in the wind and emit heat.

I-NorthernDragon-F

The cool air of dawn woke her. She blinked as the sounds of human gasps reached her ears and tiny claws dug into her shoulder.

Slowly, she stood. Naked and covered in soot, she found her small Khalasar along with Jorah bowing before her. In her arms, three baby dragons hissed and greeted the new dawn beside her.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you gods of the internet for returning my service, and thank you everyone who's commented and continues to read this story. I can safely say that Sansa will soon make land and meet the Mother of Dragons.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Blood and Sand**

"What is that?" Sansa heard one of the sailors on the deck above her cabin asked.

"Don't know."

"It's a sign," Jon said. "Something important's going to happen. I swear it is."

"You also swore you loved me," Desini countered.

"A man says anything with drink in him," he dismissed. "Besides, I'm making you rich as well, aren't I?"

"We would have done better to stay and join the civil war that's surely broken out."

"We'd be dead," he insisted. "That brat sitting on the Iron Throne would have had my head within the week."

"Or you would have his with an army at your back," she countered again. "Look. It's red. It could be a sign that we should have stayed."

As steps sounded above Sansa, Jon snorted. "Go on." _She must have left._ "Women. You bed them, and they want you to marry them. You promise to make them rich, and they complain as you do it. Captain, how long till we make land?"

"Not long now. We're over halfway there."

"Good," he chuckled as more steps began and faded away above the cabin.

Quietly, she got up from her tousled bed and leaned against the window. Squinting at the sky, she discovered the cause of the worry and hope: a red comet streaking across the sky leaving what could be interpreted as a trail of blood. _I am not sure that can be derived as a happy omen._

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The hot sun beat down mercilessly upon the ragtag khalasar of the last Targaryen. Daenerys offered a piece of meat to Drogon as she thought of the blood comet of the night before. _An omen surely. An omen of great victory… or great defeat, but whose? Surely, my enemies must have seen it as well as me. Either way, it foretells bloodshed on a level not seen for centuries._

"What did your brother say about them, Khaleesi?" A woman asked.

"He said they ate meat," she sighed.

"But he didn't tell you what kind of meat?"

Daenerys shook her head. "My brother didn't know anything about dragons," she admitted. "He didn't know anything about anything."

The dragon jumped down into her raised palm. "Here," she told the man carrying the cage as she placed him gently inside and locked the wicker door.

As she did so, the white horse at the head of the column collapsed in the dust. She joined Jorah kneeling beside it. She looked at him, and he shook his head. _Practically the last horse we have… and the last thing tying me to Drogo._

"She was Drogo's first gift to me," she murmured as she stroked the white mane.

"I remember," he said.

"I promised to protect them. I promised their enemies would die screaming." _I can't even save my own horse._ "How do I make salvation scream?"

"A trick I never learned, I'm afraid."

She looked at the wilderness around them. "Does it ever end?"

"This is further east than I've ever been, but yes, Khaleesi," he assured her. "Everything ends, even the Red Waste."

"And you're sure there's no other way?"

"We could go south to the land of the lamb men, who will kill us and take your dragons," he said. "We go west, and the first Khalasar we meet will kill us and take your dragons."

"**No one** will **take **my dragons," she insisted coldly.

"They're too weak to fight," he whispered and glanced at the people she led. "As are your people. You must be their strength."

She looked at him. "I see one way." She looked out on the waste again and swallowed her tears. _The only way._

Standing, she summoned her remaining riders. _"Rakharo, Aggo, Kovarro. Take our remaining horses."_ She looked at them in turn as she spoke, "_You will ride east, you southeast, and you northeast."_

_"__What do we seek, Khaleesi?" _Rakharo asked.

_"__Cities, living or dead. Caravans and people. Rivers or lakes or the great salt sea. Find how far the Red Waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side."_

_"__We will," _they answered and mounting the last horses, departed.

She caught Rahkaro before he left after them and said, " _You are my last hope, blood of my blood."_

_"__I will not fail you, blood of my blood," _he answered sincerely and held her gaze.

"You never have," she said in the common tongue of Westeros.

"This is…" He searched for the words, "… bad time to start." With a brief tight grin, he mounted his horse and departed.

"_Forgive me if I send you to your deaths,"_ she whispered to herself as she watched them disappear over the horizon.

In despair, she gazed up at the sky and found the comet once more. It trailed blood just as before. _Gods help us. I cannot lose all of them now._

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She let her head droop in the heat as drowsiness seeped into her limbs. She frowned as noise reached her ears. _A thunderstorm? _She looked up half hopeful at the mocking clear blue sky, but the sound continued. Standing, she caught sight of a cloud of dust approaching. _One of the riders._

The black stallion slowed as it approached, but there was no rider and red marks adorned its front. She gulped as she and Jorah approached. As she stroked its mane, Jorah moved to its side where red dripped from the saddle bag. Instead of pulling the head out, he removed the cut braid.

"You don't need to see this-" he began as she stepped around.

"He is blood of my blood," she insisted and gently pulled the head out. "Who did this?"

"Khal Pono perhaps," Jorah suggested. "Khal Djagao. They don't like the idea of a woman leading a Khalasar."

"They will like it far less when I am done with them," she growled.

She heard the footsteps and sighed as his sister, sobbing, came between them. "_They have killed his soul!"_ She knelt in the dust at the Khaleesi's feet.

"_Shh. They cannot kill his soul." Only the Gods can do that. _Daenerys ran her hand through the woman's hair.

"_They did. They butchered him like an animal! They never burned his body. He can never join his ancestors in the night lands," _she sobbed.

Daenerys knelt before and hugged her. "_Shh. We will build him a funeral pyre." _Pulling back, she met her gaze. "_And I promise you. Rahkaro will ride with his ancestors tonight."_

As she hugged the woman she thought, _I am sorry Rakharo, for I sent you to your death, and I cannot even give you a full proper burial._ _Forgive me. I cannot even do that in return for your faithfully service in my hour of need._ She looked up at the sky, and once again saw the comet. Its tail of blood had shortened.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Eleven: Shelter Behind the Bones**

The sun had risen above the faint pink cliffs in the east of the camp as Daenerys lay under a tent. She weakly moved her tongue behind cracked lips. Laying her head against the sand, she shut her eyes against the merciless rays. She groaned as a sound began to pound in her head. _Go away, headache._

Her brow scrunched in annoyance as the sound disobeyed and grew louder. Moaning, she sat up and rubbed her temples. Fingertips on cheeks, she stopped and looked up across the desert to find a rider trotting towards the camp. Heart beating faster, she stood.

As the last rider came to a halt beside her and with her voice cracking, she commented, "_This isn't your horse." _Hope welled within her as the last rider had returned on foot after his horse died of thirst.

_ "__It was given to me by the Thirteen," _he answered as he dismounted. "_The Elders of Qarth."_

_ "__Qarth?"_

_ "__Three days to the east, on the sea," _he explained.

"_Will they let us in?" _Her heart sped behind her ribs.

_"__They said they would be honored to receive the Mother of Dragons,"_ he responded and lowered a water skin from the saddle before handing it to her.

She took one gulp before handing it off to Jorah to pass around as she asked him, "What do you know of this place?"

"Only that the desert around their walls is called the Garden of Bones," he answered as he handed the water off. "Every time the Qarthians shut their gates on a traveler, the garden grows."

_We have no choice. _"Prepare to move at once. We go to Qarth," she ordered, and following her command, the people dispersed to their scattered belongings.

Turning to the rider, she said, "_Tell me of Qarth_."

"_It is a paradise, Khaleesi, though no one can see it through the walls and gates, but once they are open_," he complied and grinned, "_you can see the sea down a sloping stone path_."

She nodded. _Good. We can find ships there at least as well as shelter from the sand. I do not relish if a storm catches us out here in the open._

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The walls were indeed as the rider had described. As her eyes scanned them, she could see how armies had fallen without even succeeding in denting the stone. She could just make out the tops of palm trees from where they stood waiting for the Thirteen.

As she thought of them, the gates swung open, and two lines of armed men marched out. _Their bodyguards probably. One for each maybe?_ Behind them, a small group of ornately dressed men approached. Some covered their heads with white shawls, and others walked bareheaded to the heat of the sun.

"My name is Daenerys-"

"Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen," a portly, bald man cut her off as he came to a stop before the other twelve men.

"You know me, my lord?" She asked as she kept her face smooth of the irritation this man was already causing. _We need them to let us. Don't antagonize him now… no matter how smug he is._

"Only by reputation, Khaleesi, and I'm no lord," he answered and spread his fat, bejeweled fingers. "Merely a humble merchant." _I would say anything but humble. _"They call you the Mother of Dragons." _And they call you a member of the Thirteen._

"And what should I call you?"

"Oh, my name is quite long and impossible for foreigners to pronounce. I am simply a trader of spices." _Yes, completely humble. No arrogance at all. _"But we are the Thirteen." He gestured at the men behind him. "Charged with the governance and protection of Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or will be." _I doubt even the usurper on my throne is this preening. I think this man might beat the peacock._

"The beauty of Quarth is legendary-"

"Qarth," he corrected. She bit back a growl.

"Qarth is le-"

"Might we see the dragons," he stated more than asked and looked around her small Khalasar.

She glanced back at the wooden, covered cages. She tried again, "My friend… we have traveled very far. We have no food, no water. Once I see my people fed, I would be honored-"

"Forgive me, Mother of Dragons," he interrupted with a slightly higher pitched voice of panic. "But no man alive has seen a living dragon," he stated as his voice returned to normal. "Some of my more skeptical friends refuse to believe your… children even exist. All we ask is the chance to see for ourselves."

"I am not a liar," she said evenly. _This is the game you wish to play then._

"Oh, I don't think you are, but because I've never met you before, my opinion on the matter is of limited value," he replied. _Why cannot we not just skip the bullshit and speak plainly? Why must negotiations occur through such a complicated dance of halfhearted words and veiled meanings?_

"Where I come from, guests are treated with respect," she spoke shortly and bit back her real thoughts and failed at the end. "Not insulted at the gates."

"Then, perhaps you should return from where you come from," he suggested. _Oh, I see how it is. Show us the dragons or be tossed out into the sand… or perhaps both even._ "We wish you well." He began to retreat back to his group.

"What are you doing?" She demanded. "You promised to receive me."

"We have received you," he stopped and answered with a crinkled brow. "Here we are, and here you are," he explained as if to a child.

"If you do not let us in, all of us will die."

"Which we shall deeply regret, but Qarth did not become the greatest city there ever was or will be by letting Dothraki savages through its gates." He returned to leaving.

He breathing deepened. "Khaleesi, please be careful," Jorah pleaded in a whisper.

She moved forward with Jorah following till the spears of the guard snapped out before her and spoke, causing the group to stop and turn, "Thirteen, when my dragons are grown, we will take back what was stolen from me and destroy those who wronged me. We will lay waste to armies and burn cities to the ground." Her wrist began to itch. "Turn us away, and we will burn you first," she promised.

"Ah," the fat man said and wagged his finger at her, "you are a true Targaryen. Only as we said a moment ago, if we don't let you into the city, you will all day and so-"

"Retreating in fear," a dark man interrupted as he came forward, "from a little girl is unbecoming of the greatest city that ever was or will be."

"The discussion is over, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. The Thirteen have spoken," the fat man retorted.

"I am one of the Thirteen," Xaro responded, "…and I am still speaking."

"The girl threatens to burn our city to the ground, and you would invite her in for a cup of wine?!" He spat. _Yes, speak as if I can't hear you all. _She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"She is the Mother of Dragons. You expect her to watch her people starve… without breathing fire?" Xaro responded. She turned to Jorah with a barely concealed "See?" look before facing the Thirteen again. "I believe we can allow a few Dothraki through the gates without dooming our city. After all, here I am. A savage from the Summer Isles and Qarth still stands."

"Our decision is final," the man refused to give up.

"Very well," he answered and moved forward before facing the fat man. "I invoke sumai." He pulled out a dagger. "I will vouch for her, for her people, and her dragons." She glanced at Jorah for an explanation, but he remained expressionless. "In accordance with the law." He sliced his palm open and showed the wound to the other twelve men.

"Be it on your head," the fat man spat before leaving.

"Welcome to Qarth, my lady," Xaro welcomed her as the others stood aside. Her palm itched as the gates opened to reveal the road that led to the see just as her rider had told her days before. She led her people within the walls and into paradise made real.

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Sansa woke to the sound of men running across the deck and shouting. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she sat up and looked out the window to find a sprawling, tropical city inching closer. Leaning against the rim of the porthole, she gazed at the buildings as they docked.

She jumped at the sound of the door opening. Turning, she found the woman, Desini, placing a tray of fruit on her bed.

"Where are we?" She asked as she remained standing by the window.

"Bravos," the woman answered curtly as she shut the door.

_Bravos. We really have come across the sea. _She picked a piece of fruit and slowly began to eat. Absentmindedly, she scratched at her wrist. _Wasn't Arya's dancing master from Bravos?_

"What news?" Jon asked above her.

"The wind is fair, and the trade is good," a man answered.

"I meant of the Dothraki."

"A blonde woman from Westeros has claimed control of a Khalasar after her husband, the Khal, sickened and died."

"From Westeros? Can you describe her?"

"Said to have violet eyes. Young. Claims to be the last Targaryen and the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Some call her the Mother of Dragons. Load of horse shit, if you ask me."

" 'Fraid your wrong there," Jon laughed. "She is the last Targaryen. Daenerys. King Joffrey's maintain the price on her head, I've heard."

"Aye?"

"Yes. Do you know where I can find her?"

"Last I heard she arrived with what remained of her Khalasar at Qarth a few days ago. She should still be there. They were half starved from what I've heard."

"You been a great help," Jon said. Sansa heard the clink of coins trading hands. "For your troubles."

"Much obliged, my lord. Much obliged."

"So, we sail for Qarth then," Desini said.

"As soon as possible," he answered. "We've something even the Mother of Dragons would pay dearly for."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve: All Is Not As Simple As You Hoped**

"_Fire," _Daenerys commanded the tiny dragon as it faced the small hunk of meat. He looked up at her and tilted his head. "_Fire,"_ she repeated slowly with a grin.

After a few coughs, he spit a tiny flame and twice as much smoke at the meat, causing her to giggle as he swallowed it. She pushed back upright from the window ledge.

"He'll be able to feed himself from now on," she commented with smile and walked away. "Let him sleep, Doreah," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Yes, Khaleesi," she obeyed as she put the tiny dragon back in his wooden cage.

"He loves you," Daenerys commented as she moved to inspect her clothes.

"_I remove this part of the top,"_ the other serving woman explained as the Khaleesi held up some fabric. "_And I fixed the heel on this one."_ She held up a shoe.

"Thank you, my friend," Daenerys answered.

"Did you see the dress Xharo had made for you?" Doreah asked and held up a delicate, blue gown. "They say he is the wealthiest man in Qarth." Her gaze roamed over the Khaleesi's body, and Daenerys, who had been about to roll her eyes, instead suppressed a light blush. _This is becoming too common of late._

"It is known," the second agreed.

"And if Qarth is the richest city-"

"The last time a rich man gave me a dress he was selling me to Khal Drogo," Daenerys interrupted.

"_May he ride forever through the night lands_," the second servant muttered a pray. The others briefly nodded.

"Xharo is our host, but we know nothing about him," Daenerys addressed Doreah. "Men like to talk about other men," she continued as Doreah put the dress away, "when they're happy." Doreah exhaled louder than usual as she understood the veiled request and gave a small grin.

"You would look like a real princess in Xharo's-"

"She is not a princess. She is a Khaleesi!" The second woman interrupted. Daenerys looked between them. _I am both,_ she thought, and the thought must have shown in her eyes. "You should wear it, Khaleesi," she retreated hastily. "You are their guest. It would be rude not to."

They exchanged a smile as the other woman left the room. As the door closed, she glanced at Doreah, who had also glanced over at her. Their eyes met, and Dany quickly looked down at her clothes again.

"Help me put this on," she said after a few moments. "For the party this evening."

"As you wish, Khaleesi," Doreah obeyed, and she forced herself to think about the upcoming party instead of Doreah's fingers fiddling with the straps and making adjustments to the dress.

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"And you must visit the night market," a woman told her as Daenerys glanced over at Doreah across a hedge, where the servant was charming a young, bald man. She received a wink in return as she forced herself back to listening to the woman before her. "The Qarthian night market is like no night market you've ever seen."

"It sounds wonderful," she replied with a smile.

"The Marinies too have a night market," the woman continued. "I will take you there myself."

She laughed a little. "Will you please excuse me?"

Without hearing a response or waiting for one, she slipped off into the crowd to where Jorah and two riders were standing around a golden peacock.

"What are they doing?" She demanded as the smile slipped off her face.

"Malako says the statue is too heavy to carry," he answered simply as if this was nothing unusual. "Khavaro says that Malako is an idiot." She glanced between the two riders as Khavaro nodded. "They can pry out the gems. The rest is pure gold. Very soft. He can chop off as much as we can carry." _Why can things not be simply for one hour without any attempts at either murder or theft?_

"_Or melt it. Very simple,"_ Khavaro interjected with a pointing of his knife at the peacock.

"_We are his guests!" _She hissed. _"You can't pry it or chop it or melt it."_

_ "__Of course not, Khaleesi!" _Khavaro defended. _"We will wait until we leave."_

She felt like smacking her own forehead when he said it as if it was obvious. _"Not even when we leave!"_

_"__Why not?"_

_"__Our host saved us from the Red Waste, and you want to steal from him?" _She did not wait for a response before continuing, "_I will hear no more."_

With a sigh, they nodded before walking off into the crowd, leaving her with Ser Jorah.

"My brother used to say that the only thing Dothraki know how to do is still things better men have built," she commented.

"Not the only thing," Jorah disagreed. "They're quite good at killing the better men." They glanced at each other. _Perhaps, but I command them. _

"That's not the kind of queen I'm going to be."

"Mother of Dragons," a man called. Turning, they found a bald man dressed in purple just as he had been when they walked through the gate that morning. "On behalf of the warlocks of Qarth, I welcome you." He bowed from the shoulders with his hands behind his back.

He held out his hand. "A demonstration." Slowly, she held her own out palm up, and he placed a small green stone in it. "Take this gem. Look at it. Into its depths."

She peered at the stone. "So many facets." He grinned, showing slightly green teeth. "Look closely enough, and you can see yourself in them."

He turned around, and she saw a clone of him beyond the peacock statue.

The clone spoke, "Often more than once." The crowd gasped.

She looked between the two as the original spoke, "Should you grow tired Xharo's baubles and trinkets, it would be an honor to host you at the House of the Undying." She stared. _I'd really rather not. _"You are always welcome, Mother of Dragons." His tongue flicked over his teeth as he spoke her title before he and the clone left to the applause of the party goers.

"My apologies," Xharo spoke as he emerged from the crowd behind her. "Pree is one of the Thirteen. It was customary for me to extend him an invitation." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jorah hunched over thinking. "Customs die slow deaths in Qarth."

"What is the… House of the Undying?" She asked him.

"It is where the warlocks go to squint at dusty books and drink shade of the evening. It turns their lips blue and their minds soft," he explained as her eyes grew wide. _Why would they want to poison themselves? _"So soft they actually believe their parlor tricks are magic," he chuckled and led her through the crowd.

Conscious of Doreah's words, she felt her cheeks flush lightly at the feel of his hand on the small of her back. _I will not be going down that road again. Not unless there's no other option._

She laughed at his joke as they joined a group of merchants near the porch and fell into the conversation of trade with Westeros.

"It is not so bad," a man was saying.

"Bad?" A woman snorted. "It's terrible! Didn't you hear that there are _four _armies trampling across that earth? No one knows who to sell to!"

"So you sell to all four and make a nice fortune," the man argued.

"I'm sorry. Did you say _four _armies are fighting in Westeros?" Daenerys interjected. _Why would there be three invaders now? Aren't the Iron Islands the closest and the most likely to fight the Kingdoms for power? With their "iron price"?_

"It's civil war, Mother of Dragons," the woman answered. "King Robert died, and his son Joffrey inherited the throne. However, there are rumors that Joffrey is Queen Cersei's bastard and that the last Hand of the King, Ned Stark, found this truth. For that, he was executed."

"And in retaliation, his son, Robb, declared himself King of the North and is marching south as we speak to take King's Landing and the Iron Throne. That or he'll join forces with Renly Baratheon, King Robert's youngest brother, who also claims the throne in light of the rumors. I've heard the young wolf sent his mother to negotiate the terms, while he fights the Lannisters."

The group was nodding when another man piped up, "But there's also Stannis Baratheon, Renly's older brother, who would logically be next in line if Robert did die without an heir. Renly's not acknowledging his claim. I've heard they'll meet in battle soon."

"Yes, but I think the Lannisters also lost the Stark girls," the woman put in.

"What?" the first man asked and looked over at her. "King's Landing is practically a fortress now after Joffrey killed off all of King Robert's bastards!"

The woman shook her head. "They never captured Arya nor even Sansa. They had the eldest in their sights, but it's as if she turned to smoke. They can't find a trace of either of them. They're bluffing to the rest of the Starks when they say that they've got the girls at King's Landing."

Daenerys' heart sped up. _The Kingdoms are in chaos. Now is the time to strike with a fleet of ships from across the sea, but I don't have an army… and Sansa. Sansa Stark. _She scratched her wrist. _Her brother might be trying to take the throne for himself. If it's true, I'll have to kill him. _Her blood ran cold. _She'll hate me forever if I do that. Robb must not be like Viserys._

"Mother of Dragons," Xharo spoke and extended a hand towards the villa in the descending twilight. "Walk with me?"

"Of course," she replied with a quick smile.

"So, tell me, how long has your manservant been in love with you?" He asked as they walked down a lit hall that gleamed like gold.

"He's not my manservant," she chuckled, "and he's not in love with me. He's my adviser," she continued coolly. "My friend."

"Unlikely," Xharo breathed. "I can almost always tell what a man wants."

"And what about what a woman wants?"

"Much more complicated. You for example," he said with a glance at her. "What do you want?"

_Sansa Stark. The Iron Throne._ "To cross the Narrow Sea and take back the Iron Throne," she answered swiftly.

"Why?"

"Because I promised my Khalasar I'd protect them and find them a safe home." _What are you really asking, Xharo?_

He chuckled, "you want to conquer the Seven Kingdoms for the Dothraki?"

"I want them because they are mine by right," she snapped. "The Iron Throne is mine, and I will take it."

"Ah. A conqueror," he murmured.

"And how did you get all of this? This, someone give it to you?" She jabbed back softly.

"No," he answered, equally soft. "I come from nothing. I hit the docks like a piece of cargo… except someone normally cares about a piece of cargo."

"So you wanted more than you had, and you took it," she cut in. "You're a conqueror too. Just… less ambitious."

He chuckled.

"What do you want, Xharo?" She asked sincerely. "At the gates of the city, you bled for me. Why?" _Nothing is free._

"I will show you why," he answered and led her by the hand through the villa to the cellar, where he drew his sword and cut across a stone door.

"The door on the vault is Valyrian stone," he explained. "The hardest steel does not make a mark. I offered the greatest locksmiths of Qarth their weight in gold if they could break into it. I made the same offer to the greatest thieves. They all went home empty handed," he sighed. "The only thing that could open this door is this key." He briefly raised the pendant on his necklace.

"And it can all be mine," she caught on.

"All? Let us say half," he answered with a grin. "More than enough to buy horses, ships… armies. Enough to go home."

"All I have to do…"

"… is marry me," he finished.

She gently shook her head in disbelief with a small smile to offset it. _Speak of it. _"That was a romantic proposal."

"I already married once for love," he explained, "but the Gods stole her from me." He walked around her, and she turned to remain facing him. "I come from nothing. My mother and father never owned a pair of shoes, but marry me, and I will give you the Seven Kingdoms… and our children will be princes and princesses." She looked at the vault over her shoulder. _I have no heir… and I know of no way that two women can have a child._ She looked back at him. "See? I have more ambition than you thought. The time is right, Daenerys Targaryen, first of your name. Robert Baratheon is dead. The Kingdoms fall into chaos. They need you."

"Let me think. I will speak to you again tomorrow," she said softly, and he nodded. He escorted her to her room and then left with a bow.

"If you cross the sea with an army you bought and paid for-" Jorah began when she told him.

"The Seven Kingdoms are at war with one another. Four false kings destroy the country!" She retaliated.

"To hold Westeros, you need support from Westeros," he said.

"The usurper is dead," she argued. "The Starks fight the Lannisters. The Baratheons fight each other."

"According to a bunch of gossiping merchants," he replied.

"The time to strike is now," she insisted. "We need to find ships and an army or spend the rest of our lives rotting away at the edge of the world."

"Merchants only become rich by giving less than they get. They'll give you ships and an army, and they'll own you forever," Jorah argued. "Moving carefully, it is the hard way, but it's the right way."

"If I'd listened to that at the gates of Qarth, we'd all be dead by now."

"I know the opportunity before you seems like the best but-"

"Do not speak to me like a child," she cut him off.

"I only want-"

"What do you want?" She snapped. "Tell me."

"To see you on the Iron Throne," he answered wearily with sagging shoulders.

"Why?"

"You have a good claim, a birthright, but you have something more than that. You may cover it up or deny it, but you have a gentle heart," he whispered. "You would not only be respected and feared. You would be loved. Someone who can and should rule. Centuries come and go without a person like that coming into the world," he spoke in awe. "There are times when I look at you, and I still can't believe you're real." She shifted uneasily. _This is starting to sound like a love letter. _Silence engulfed them with much shuffling of feet.

"So what would you have me do? As my advisor?" She finally asked.

"Make your own way," he answered softly. "Find your own ship. You only need one. The allies we need are in Westeros. Not Qarth."

"And how do I get this ship?"

"I'll find it for you," he answered. "Sound ship with a good captain."

She looked at him and said, "I look forward to meeting him."

"Khaleesi." He bowed and left her alone.

She sniffed from suppressing her tears after the door closed. _Jorah, why? I cannot deal with this now. I need you to advise me. I need to conqueror Westeros and then find Sansa. _She took a deep breath and shook her head. _Sansa. When did she become such a priority? When Drogo died? When I realized that I have a true chance of reclaiming my rightful throne?_

She shook her head again. _There's no time to think of that now. I have a war to plan for._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Thirteen: Disaster?**

"He shouldn't make me wait," Daenerys said as she paced beside Xharo.

"The Spice King is the second wealthiest man in Qarth," Xharo answered. "He makes everyone wait. Of course, you could have avoided this embarrassment if you had married the wealthiest man in Qarth." _Oh, shut up already. I gave you my answer. I'm not changing it._

"I had a husband. I do not want another," she replied.

"You are far too young to be a widow forever."

"I never said I was to be a widow," she jabbed back.

"The Mother of Dragons," the Spice King boomed, cutting off whatever response Xharo had summoned to his tongue. "Forgive me. I had terrible dreams last night. Terrible dreams." She sighed. _Why can't men ever just get straight to the point? And they think women speak in riddles?_ "I could not sleep till the sun was shining, and the birds were singing." _Add dramatic to that thought. _"Look what a beauty you are now that Red Waste has been washed off you. I am sorry about all that… unpleasantness."

"The silver hair of a true Targaryen," he continued as he finished coming down the stairs to the landing above them. "Xharo, she is far too lovely for a glorified dock worker like yourself." _Here we go again. _

"Very true, and yet they say that your grandfather who sold pepper off the back of a wagon married a lady far lovelier and higher born than himself," Xharo joked back. _Yes, continue as if I am not here. The same as Viserys…_

"Every lady alive was lovelier and higher born than my grandfather," the fat responded.

Daenerys cleared her throat. _Is your "boys moment" over now? Good._

"Oh, did my servants not offer you something to eat or drink?" The Spice King asked her. "I'll have them flogged in the square."

"Thank you, my lord," she began and took a few steps forward. "You are a gracious host. There is no servant alive who can bring me what I want."

"Hm, she has a talent for drama this one," he spoke to Xharo who nodded. She gritted her teeth. _I do not. However, it is very obvious that you are the Drama King._ "So, my little princess, what is it you want?"

"My birthright. The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros."

"I fear I am no better than a servant in this regard," he answered. "I cannot give you what I do not have." _As I am not a child, I can see that._

"I'm asking you for ships," she said. "I need to cross the Narrow Sea."

"I need my ships as well," he answered. "I use them, you see, to bring spices from one port to another."

"Whatever you give me now will be repaid three times over when I retake the Iron Throne." She ignored the arrogance flowing through the air.

"Retake? Did you once sit on the Iron Throne?"

"My father sat there," she explained. "Before he was murdered."

"If you did not sit on it yourself, would it not be correct to say 'take the Iron Throne'?"

"I didn't come here to argue grammar," she cut in and managed to keep her voice level despite the ridiculousness of the man before her.

"Of course not. You came to take my ships. So, let me explain my position, little princess," he continued louder. "Unlike you, I do not have exalted ancestors. I make my living by trade, and I judge every trade on its merits. You ask for ships. You say I shall be repaid triple. I do not doubt your honest or your intentions, but before you repay your debts, you must seize the Seven Kingdoms. Do you have an army?"

"Not yet."

"You do not have an army. Do you have powerful allies in Westeros?"

"There are many there who support my claim."

"When were you there last?"

"I left when I was a baby."

"So, in truth, you have no allies," he came to his conclusion. "Forgive me, little princess, I cannot make an investment on wishes and dreams." _And here, I thought you were actually learning to respect me._

"I am no ordinary woman. My dreams come true," she threw at him.

"I admire your passion," he answered, "but in business, I trust in logic, not passion. I'm sorry little princess." He started to climb the stairs.

"I am not your little princess," she finally snapped. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of the blood of Old Valyria, and I will take what is mine. With fire and blood, I will take it."

"Yes, my lady," he said over his shoulder, "but not with my ships." He disappeared into the second floor, leaving her with Xharo and no means to leave.

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"The Spice King won't give me ships because I'm a bad investment. The Silk King won't support me because of his business with the Lannisters. He wouldn't want to offend his best customer, and the Copper King offers me a single ship on the condition that I lie with him for a night," she complained with distaste to Xharo. "Does he think I'll whore myself for a boat?"

"When I came to this city, I had nothing," he began. "Truly… nothing. I slept out by the docks, and when I could find work loading the ships, I would eat. If not, I dreamed of food. Today, I am the richest man in Qarth. Do you think that the path from poverty to wealth is always pure and honorable?" _You still want me to marry you. Your words carry an agenda._

"No, but it is possible and depends entirely on the character and morals of the person who is traveling," she answered before opening the door to the courtyard of her lodgings.

Her eyes swept over a battlefield littered with the dead of her tiny Khalasar. Ignoring Xharo as he gave orders, she dashed up the stairs to shouts and ringing alarm bells.

"Where are they?" She demanded of the empty room when she arrived.

Her eyes drifted to the gray body of Doreah, and tears welling up, she knelt beside her and touched the exposed skin of her arm. It was cold.

"Where are my dragons?" Daenerys howled as she stared at the empty, broken cages.

* * *

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but I felt it didn't go with the next part, which I think might be the longest so far. So, you all get the rare treat of a second update to go with the longer first, and the wait is almost over!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fourteen: Revenge Should Be Cooked Cold and Served Hot**

It was dark as the ship came into dock. The shuddering halt woke her right before the door swung open.

"Get up," Jon said and grabbed her roughly by the elbow before shoving her out the door.

"What?" She squeaked as she stumbled over the boards to the stairs leading to the deck and the open air.

"We're leaving," he said. "Now, shut up." He pushed her up the steps into the starry night.

Looking up, the stars winked back playfully. She did not have time to enjoy this or the cool air as the Jon hauled her by the arm across the deck to the gangway where Desini and five men waited.

"Everything's in order, Jon," Desini whispered. "We're to take her to the tower. They already took her baby lizards there." She glanced at Sansa. "He agreed with you about what she'll value most when the time comes."

He nodded before shoving her into the guards' arms. "Careful with her. She can't be damaged," he spoke as he placed a strip of cloth tight over her eyes.

"We'll be even richer than I had originally planned," Jon spoke to his lover. "Think of it. We'll be able to buy a whole city. I could even claim the throne for myself. How'd you like that, my queen?" He chuckled.

"Let's get her there first, and then we can think of such things, Jon the first of his name," she answered before moving off, probably down to the dock.

They practically lifted her down to the dock before marching her through winding streets. _Lizards? What's so important about lizards? And who's this woman who has them… or had them? And what man? What tower? Why would lizards make them even richer than before?_ She nearly froze and tripped over the stones of the street with a guard cursing at her._ What about Daenerys?_

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Jorah found the Khaleesi staring at the empty cages when he returned.

"You came back," she said as he stood there.

"As soon… as I heard," he panted. "Do you know anything?"

She shook her head quickly. "Doreah is dead."

"I know," he breathed. "She was a good-"

"She's dead," Daenerys cut him off. "She died alone. She died for me, and I couldn't protect her." Sniffling, she moved to the windowsill. "I led my people out of the Red Waste and into the slaughter house." _Nothing I could or would have done or said matters now… yet my heart aches… as far as I think it is possible to. It aches like it ached when Drogo passed… when my son died before he was even born… when I saw the faraway look in his father's eyes… the lack of recognition. It aches._ She closed her eyes, waiting for Jorah's denial.

"I should have been here," he said forcefully instead.

She looked at him and shook her head. "You went to find me a ship."

"My place is by your side," he answered. "I shouldn't have left you alone with these people."

"These people?" She whispered.

"They are not to be trusted," he murmured.

"And who is to be trusted? Who are my people?" She asked evenly. "The Targaryens?" She took a breath before continuing, "I only knew one: my brother, and he would have let a thousand men _rape me_ if it had gotten him the crown. The Dothraki? Most of them turned on me the day Khal Drogo fell from his horse."

"Your people are in Westeros," he said.

"People from Westeros don't know I'm alive," she cut him off sharply.

"They will soon enough," he replied.

"And then what?" She challenged. "They'll pray for my return? They'll wave dragon banners and shout my name?" _Do you not hear how ridiculous that sounds?_ "That's what my brother believed, and he was a fool." She walked away.

"You are not your brother," he said, stopping her. She looked at him. "Trust me, Khaleesi."

"There it is," she whispered. "'Trust me'. And it's you I should trust Ser Jorah? Only you?" He said nothing, so she continued, "I don't need trust any longer. I don't want it, and I don't have room for it." He took a few steps closer.

He raised a hand to place on her shoulder. "You are too young to-"

"And you are too familiar," she cut him off and let his hand hover before he dropped it and backed away a bit.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi," he murmured. "No one can survive in this world without help. No one. Let me help you," he begged softly. "Please. Tell me how."

"Find my dragons," she said simply.

Without a word, he left, and Xharo arrived not long after.

"I've arranged a meeting with the Spice King," he said with a bow. "About your dragons."

"Take me to him," she commanded and brushed past him to the stairs.

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"I did not invite you to my home to call me a thief," the Spice King shouted from the head of the curved table where the Thirteen sat.

"No one is calling you a thief," Xharo said as he sat at Daenerys' side. She had refused a chair when they arrived, so that she remained above the Spice King this time as he sat at his desk.

"Who is she to accuse us?" He tried again.

"Please, they're my children. I'm begging you," she tried a different approach.

"Begging us?" Another man spoke. "It wasn't very long ago you were threatening us."

"Without me, the dragons will die," she stated, trying to keep the hysterical edge out of her voice.

"It will be for the best," the Spice King said. "Your dragons will bring the world nothing but death and misery, my dear." She growled softly. _Now you show your true colors. Well, I rescind my promise to not burn Qarth to the ground then when I have found them._ "If I knew where they were, I would not tell you." _Definitely going to burn his house and ships first._

"You are cruel, my friend," Pree, the warlock from before, said. "The Mother of Dragons is in the right." _And what do you want?_ "She must be reunited with her babies."

"I will help you, Khaleesi," he addressed her. _What price?_

"How?" She asked slowly.

"I will take you to the House of the Undying," he stated as if it was obvious. _Why is that house so important?_ "Where I have put them." _What?!_

She glanced around the room. _Oh, you smug, pompous bastards! I'll… _She thought for a second. _Perhaps I'll just take over Qarth instead… or rob them first._ "You have my dragons?"

"When I learned that you were coming to the city, I made an arrangement with the King of Qarth," Pree explained, and the room chuckled. "He procured them for me."

"But there is no King of Qarth," she said and felt Xharo rise beside her.

"There is now," Xharo said softly. "That was the other half of the arrangement."

Her eyes widened as he walked forward and addressed the Thirteen. "You would keep your gates and your minds closed to everything outside your walls, but Qarth cannot remain the greatest city that ever was if it refuses to change." She stepped back into the shadows beside Khavaro, and Pree stood, walking around the table towards her. "I will open Qarth to the world as I have forced it to open itself to me."

"Your ambition is an inspiration," the Spice King said as Pree stopped beside Xharo, "but like all upstarts, you overreach. Three dragons the size of cats and an alliance with a charlatan do not make you a king."

"An upstart and a charlatan," Xharo spoke. "Empires have been built by less. Those in the margins have come to control the center. Those in the center make room for them. Willingly or otherwise."

Her eyes darted around the room as cold air crept over her skin in a foreboding.

"_Find Jorah," _she whispered to Khavaro_. "I will be fine on my own here, but tell him the dragons are at the House of the Undying. I shall meet him there… and tell Malako to start stealing anything that isn't bolted down around Xharo's house."_ Khavaro nodded and slipped off into the shadows.

"The Mother of Dragons will be with her babies," Pree spoke then. She watched him glance at her with a creepy smile. "She will give them her love, and they will thrive by her side." _Oh no. I know what you're saying. I'm not spending my life there._ "Forever," he finished as his duplicates stepped from the shadows and sliced the seated men's throats.

She ran. Only to find herself face to face with Pree again in a hallway. She stopped, and he grinned before grimacing as a sword appeared through his chest.

"A mother should be with her children," he said before disappearing into thin air, leaving her with Jorah.

"Where will you run to, Daenerys Stormborn?" Another asked by the window. "Your dragons wait for you in the House of the Undying." His head tilted. "Come see them."\

Jorah pulled her along the hallway and out into the sun before taking off into the wild gardens at the edge of the city, where they met Khavaro and Malako.

"We have to go there," Daenerys panted.

"Xharo owns this city, and the warlocks have a thousand eyes," Jorah said. "I found a ship with a good captain, Khaleesi. She leaves tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She asked and looked at him.

"We cannot stay here," he answered. "The gold and jewels that Khavaro and Malako have taken will pay for the passage and even the beginnings of an army."

"They have my dragons. A mother does not flee without her children," she insisted.

"They're not your children," he said in disbelief. "I know they call you the Mother of Dragons, and I know you love them, but you didn't grow them in your womb, have them suck at your breast. They are dragons, Khaleesi, and if we stay in Qarth, we'll all die."

"You should sail tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be safe then," she retorted.

"You know I would die for you," he answered. "I will never abandon you. I'm sworn to protect you, to serve."

"Then, _serve_ me," she said. "If my dragons are in the House of the Undying, then take me there."

"That's what the warlock wants. He told you so himself. If you go to that place, you will never leave again. Their magic-"

"And what of my magic?" She snapped. "You saw me step into the fire. Watched the witch burn. What did the flames do to me? Do you remember?"

He drew back a bit and whispered, "Until my last breath, I will remember. After I have forgotten my mother's face."

She cupped the side of his face and whispered, "They _are_ my children… and they are the only children I will ever have." She pulled her hand back and asked "Take me to them."

He nodded.

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It had been dark, but now it was even darker as Sansa sat in the corner of what she assumed to be a cell. Strange squeals reverberated off the stone around her, but they didn't sound human. Sometimes, though, she swore she heard the cry of a child amid them. She shivered, though she couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from the plaintive, unceasing cries.

When she had first arrived, she had called out, but no one had answered. As she tried to remember how long she had been there, the screaming started. She jumped.

"Hello?" She shouted. "Is anyone there?"

The tramp of boots on stone began and drew closer. Someone dragged her upright by the elbow before leading her out, but she didn't see light. The world had turned even darker.

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As Daenerys entered the next chamber, the temperature dropped. As she ventured further, the room seemed to change. She dropped the torch to the floor when she looked up to find gaping holes in the roof and snow gently falling. She turned around, and her heart nearly stopped.

Slowly, she approached the raised dais. _The Iron Throne. _Pausing before the throne forged from swords, she glanced around before retreating back down to the rest of the floor when a screech reached her ears. _It isn't real, Daenerys. It isn't real. Just find your dragons. Your dragons are the only real things here._

She followed them and found a heavy stone door slide open before her, revealing a snowy landscape. She shivered as wind whipped the flakes against her. The ground crunched under her as she walked.

Coming upon a tent, she entered, and the snow became replaced by sand, the wind not as harsh against the flapping fabric. She stopped and felt her heart nearly stop too at the sight of Drogo holding a toddler with his same dark hair.

"_Moon of my life,"_ Drogo spoke.

Slowly, she stepped closer, and found her words, "_This is dark magic, like the magic that took you from me. Took you from me before I could even… Maybe I am dead, and I just don't know it yet. Maybe I am with you in the Night Lands."_

_"__Or maybe I refused to enter the Night Lands without you,"_ he answered. "_Maybe I told the Great Stallion to go fuck himself and came back here to wait for you."_ Her wrist itched, but she ignored it.

_"__That sounds like something you would do,"_ she said.

She knelt and touched the little boy's face as Drogo said. "_Or maybe it is a dream. Your dream, my dream… I do not know. These are questions for wise men with skinny arms,"_ he breathed into her ear.

"_Daenerys," _a woman whispered. She glanced around the tent as Drogo's words faded. "_Daenerys."_ The itching intensified, and she felt something pulling low in her gut. She looked at Drogo and saw his lips moving, but it was as if she had become deaf. She glanced down at the little boy, but she could see through him to the blanket under.

_"__Daenerys."_

_I did care for you, Drogo. _She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, but she rose and left. Pushing back the tent flap, she found herself in an earlier room or one similar to it, and her dragons screeched from the stone altar in the center.

She approached and saw that tiny collars had been placed around their necks. She frowned, unsure how to open them.

"They miss their mother."

Jumping, she whirled around to find Pree standing behind her, and a young red haired woman slumped against the wall near him. Her stomach dropped at the sight, though she could not say why.

"They want to be with you," he said.

'Don't you want to be with them?" A duplicate asked behind her.

"You will be," the original stated. "When your dragons were born, our magic was born again."

"It is strongest in their presence," the duplicate added.

"And they are strongest in yours."

"You will be with them through winter, summer, and winter again. Through a thousand thousand seasons you will be with them." She felt cold metal on her wrist. Glancing down, she found a shackle.

"And they will be with you until time comes to an end."

"Welcome home, Daenerys Stormborn," the original grinned.

"This is not my home. My home is across the sea where my people are waiting for me," she said calmly.

"They will be waiting a long time."

Her dragons squealed, and Pree bent under her arm to see them.

_You do not know dragons. _She smiled. "_Fire."_

She watched as first his sleeve caught fire before the rest of him. His screams reverberated off the stone. The chains loosened and collapsed at her feet as did those around her dragons.

She gathered them onto her shoulders and left arm.

"Hello?" The woman shouted, causing her to jump. "Is anybody there?"

"Who are you?" Daenerys asked, but the woman didn't respond.

She bit her lip. She had her dragons, but something was still tugging at her, pulling her towards the woman. She shook her head and walked over, pulling the woman up before leading her out into the sun.

As the door to the outside swung open, the woman collapsed in a faint.

"Khaleesi?" Jorah asked as he sheathed his sword.

"He's dead," she answered. "Take her. I don't know who she is, but they were holding her captive down there with the dragons." Jorah carried the woman, and Malako carefully placed the dragons into the mended cages before hefting them onto a stolen mule.

"The ship is still docked. They're waiting for us," Jorah said as the descended the stairs leading from the tower to the street.

"Take her there," she said. "I have unfinished business with Xharo Xhoan Daxos, and I want my dragons there too."

"Let me come with you, Khaleesi," he spoke and handed the unconscious woman to Khavaro.

Daenerys glanced at her before nodding.

_"__She is to be unharmed," _she told Khavaro, who nodded before leaving.

She followed Jorah through the darkening streets to Xharo's mansion, where they found the rest of her Khalasar.

The guards fell silently before her at her riders hands. They found the King of Qarth in bed with a woman. One of her riders hooked the key from around his sleeping throat with his blade, startling the man awake.

He stared at her as she stood with her arms crossed and her dragons perched on them and her left shoulder.

"Come," she said simply and walked away.

Xharo yanked the sheets aside, and Jorah drew his blade. The King came quietly, and the key worked easily. She entered the vault only to find it empty.

"Nothing," she breathed. _It will do for something else then._

She turned and addressed her captive, standing in his night shirt alongside what had once been one of her serving women. "Thank you, Xharo Xhoan Daxos, for teaching me this lesson." She jerked her head at the gaping mouth of the vault and moved aside as her guards dragged them in.

"I'm King of Qarth now. I can help now, truly help you," Xharo talked quickly. "I can help you take the Iron Throne. I'll get you a thousand ships."

"Please, Khaleesi!" The woman cried.

"Save it," Daenerys spoke. "You'll soon need your breath for breathing than for your lies, Xharo Xhoan Daxos."

Stoney face, she listened to their cries and pleadings, as her guards emerged. They continued as Jorah swung the door shut, cutting them off, and locked the vault tight. He handed her the key.

They proceeded to plunder the mansion in the hours before dawn. Khavaro had sent word that the captain would leave at first light, leaving them with plenty of time to strip the building. Pocketing the vault key, she found Jorah in the dining room.

"It's all a lie," he said.

She looked around. "Looks real enough to me." Lifting an eyebrow, she picked up a golden bowl and held it out to him. "Real enough to buy a ship?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Aye," he smiled and took it. "A small ship."

As she walked away, she heard him yell, "_Take all the gold and jewels!"_ His words were met with cheers from her already plundering Khalasar.

She smiled at that as her people rushed to and fro, piling carts to take to the docks and the ship that would bear them to Astapor.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: This may have been the longest I've been gone, but the past few months have been the roughest of my life. Short story: Personal and financial problems to academic problems to more personal problems. Explanation over. Let's get to the story!

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**Chapter Fifteen: Fate can be Awkward**

Despite being familiar like coming home, the roll of the ship did not melt the tension in her shoulders as she sat beside the bed where the young redhead lay sleeping. Daenerys chewed at her lip as her idle mind wandered back over the departure from Qarth and the last minute slaughter of the man who had kidnapped the young woman before her.

_"__A gift, Khalessi," he insisted with a smile. "Your very soul so to speak."_

_ "__And why was my soul in the same prison as my dragons?"_

_ "__Destiny must have divined it that way."_

_ "__And destiny must have divined your death at my hands," she responded coldly before Jorah dispatched him._

She let a hand fall over the red tresses as she thought. _We never did find that woman he mentioned. _She stroked the sleeping head under her fingertips. _Perhaps he killed her. I doubt he wasn't above betrayal whoever he was._

The redhead whimpered and turned over onto her side, facing the Khaleesi who frowned briefly. _This is the fifth time in the past hour. What could she have gone through to suffer so in her sleep?_

"Jorah?" She called softly.

"Yes, Khaleesi?" He answered as he poked his head in.

"You know the Kingdoms well. Where would you say she is from?" She gestured at the sleeping woman as he stepped inside the room.

"From her coloring, I would say she's a Tully," he answered. "That'd put her in Riverrun, north of King's Landing but not as far as the Starks at Winterful, though I would hazard that she's one of Lord Stark's children. He had married Catelyn Tully during the war, and no other Tully would have a daughter of this age."

She frowned again. "Hm. What can you tell of the Starks, Jorah?"

"Only that they are an honorable lot, Khaleesi. They only rode to war when your brother took Ned Stark's sister, Lyanna, south. Other than that, they keep to themselves and hold the north for whoever sits on the Iron Throne."

"And now?"

"I would say it is much the same. The boy king provoked the Starks by not only beheading their father but also holding his two daughters hostage." He glanced at the sleeping form. "Though it would appear that one has slipped his grasp."

"Thank you, Jorah. That will be all," Daenerys spoke quietly.

"Khaleesi," he answered and bowed from the neck before resuming his station in the hall.

"Who are you, Stark?" She whispered as she gently wove her fingers through red hair. "There is a Stark name on my wrist, yet there are two of you. What am I to do about that, hm?"

The young woman beneath her fingertips groaned, and she pulled back. Sitting straight, she watched her slowly come round and open her eyes.

Daenerys gulped at the sight of those brilliant blue orbs as they focused on her. The redhead froze like a startled deer caught coming into the meadow during a great hunt.

"It's alright," she whispered and remained still for fear of sending the Stark bolting across the room or even out the cabin door.

"Where am I?" The redhead asked just as low.

"Aboard a ship bound for Astapor."

She watched the woman blink and mouth, "Astapor?"

"The man you were with is no more," Daenerys explained coolly with her hands folded in her lap. "What is your name?"

"Sansa. Sansa Stark," the redhead answered.

Her heart stopped. She gulped, and her throat caught from the desert it had become. _Sansa,_ she wanted to whisper. Instead, she said, "I see. Well, you should rest now, Sansa." The name felt at home upon her tongue and sent a shiver through her. "I will see you later. If you hunger or thirst, just ask the servant outside."

With that, she swept from the room and headed up to the open air of the deck in a daze. _"Sansa. Sansa Stark." She's been in my room…in my bed for days now. She's been here all this time. _She gulped and felt her fingers grip down on the wooden rail beneath her palms. Absently, she realized that she on deck and staring out to see. _What does one __**do**__ in this situation? I mean, she's my mate. Can she leave? If she wanted? Is it __**possible**__ for her to __**not**__ like me at all? _Panic welled within her breast and cut into her breathing. _Can there __**be**__ such a thing?_

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Sansa blinked as she once again found herself alone. _What just happened? Who was that woman?_ She glanced around the cabin. _It's quite spacious…like a… a captain's cabin, yes, a captain's cabin. _Idly, she brushed her fingers over her wrist. Frowning, she looked down at the pale skin. _Could it be?_

She drew her fingers back and scrutinized the cabin again. _No crest. Nothing out of the ordinary for a ship's cabin. _She took a deep breath. _If this is her cabin and she is who I think she is, then… what happens now? Somehow I've managed in all the chaos and terror to find my… my mate._ She shivered at the word. _Does she know? She must know. She left in such a hurry after hearing my name._

"I see you're awake," a gruff voice commented. She jumped and turning, found a man in the doorway.

"Yes," she answered and fisted the sheets. "You are…?"

"Ser Jorah." He bowed from the waist.

"Jorah," she repeated and frowned.

"You may remember me from the North, Lady Stark. I once served your father."

"I… remember your name, Ser Jorah, but I don't recall anything else." Her hands laid flat over the sheets.

"Just as well. I rarely came to Winterfell," he said.

Silence fell, and he shifted as if to go.

"Ser Jorah?"

He stopped and turned his face towards her. "Yes?"

She licked her dry lips. "Who is she?"

"I think you already know, Lady Stark," he answered gently as his eyes drooped. He left before she could push for more.

She looked at her wrist and then the closed door before exhaling a shuddering breath. Head swimming as if the air had thinned, she laid back against the pillows and shut her eyes.

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"Khaleesi?"

"Yes, Jorah?" She remained leaning against the railing.

"She knows, Khaleesi," he said simply.

"And?"

"I felt you should know."

Sighing, she turned towards him. "And what is it you suppose I do?"

"Talk to her. What else would you do?"

_Many things._ Her cheeks flushed pink, and she cleared her throat. "The last time a Targaryen and a Stark 'talked' a war rent the Seven Kingdoms."

"The Seven Kingdoms are already rent, Khaleesi," he answered. _A Targaryen and a Stark could heal them_, she thought were the unspoken words.

Breathing deeply, she said, "Watch the ship. I will back later."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: This is perhaps the hardest chapter I've written. The amount of editing and rewriting for the first part, I don't want to think about, but I hope you all enjoy this next step in the story!

araindeer: Thanks! I'm really hoping things will go well for a change and that I'll have more time to write. :)

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**Chapter Sixteen: Astapor**

The grain of the wood was interesting. It didn't possess a single discernable pattern. _Much like life, _Daenerys grimaced. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and entered.

"Hello," Sansa greeted her from where she stood by the window.

"Hello," Dany replied and joined her. "How are you?"

"I'm not sure. I was kidnapped, placed on a ship, then in darkness with what sounded like babies crying, and then woke up here on another ship," Sansa quipped as she watched the waves.

"I see," she commented and shifted. "That would have been my dragons."

"What?" Confused, Sansa turned to face her.

"The crying was from my dragons. They were quite small at the time," Dany explained.

"Oh." She shifted as Dany bit her lip.

"Do you-?" They both started and as Sansa grinned shyly, stopped.

"Go ahead," Dany said quietly with an encouraging smile.

"The mark," she muttered and looked away as her fingers brushed over her wrist. Dany frowned before she realizing that she meant the name on her wrist.

"Of course, everyone does." She swallowed past the lump in her throat as she continued, "Mine's Sansa… Stark."

"Oh," the redhead whispered and bit her lip as a blush crept over her cheeks.

Dany took a step closer before whispering, "That's you, isn't it?"

Sansa nodded. "I… I don't… know… how-"

"Sh," she whispered and placed a finger over the redhead's lips. "It's alright. Neither do I really," she admitted. "Why don't we start with telling each about ourselves… if you're comfortable with that?"

Sansa nodded and sat on the edge of the bed with Daenerys following suit. "What do you want to know?"

_Everything_, she wanted to breath, but instead she said, "Why not start with Winterfell? I've no memories of the Seven Kingdoms of my own, and I've only ever heard of King's Landing and Dragonstone."

"Well, it's old and cold," she quipped, and Dany laughed. Ears turning red, Sansa hurried on, "There's the Stark family crypt and a Godswood too."

"I would think it's more than that, dear," Dany continued to chuckle. "But go on." She smiled encouragingly at redhead.

"I'm not really sure what to say," Sansa murmured.

"Well, what is a Godswood?"

"A forest, though a small one," she explained. "It's within Winterfell's walls, though I think the wall was built around it to stop anyone from wandering in and possibly desecrating the site. Not many believe in the Old Gods anymore." She paused and smiled fondly as she gazed back across the vast ocean of memory, "I remember always thinking that there was something wild about a godswood; even in the heart of the castle, you could feel the Old Gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes."

"Do you believe in the old gods then?" Dany whispered.

"Of course," she answered. "House Stark has worshipped them for thousands of years back to the First Men. What of the Targaryens?"

"The Seven after our conquest of the Seven Kingdoms," Dany answered. "Before that we worshipped the Valyrian gods."

Both fell silent for several moments as the air hung heavy with words unsaid and which needed to be said. They looked around the room before turning back to each other.

"This might not end well," Dany whispered.

"Everything always carries that chance," Sansa answered and took the Queen's hand in her own.

"Yet the last time a Targaryen loved a Stark; it did not end well." Dany glanced down at their joined hands.

"The last time a Stark loved a Targaryen; a different dragon sat on the Iron Throne." She smiled at the blonde, who gave a weak grin in return.

"We're a long way from the Iron Throne, Stark."

"Perhaps, but we've dragons to get us there, Targaryen." Dany smiled at that and squeezed her hand.

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From one side of the top deck, she smiled as she watched Sansa watching her dragons on the other side.

"They're growing fast," Ser Jorah commented by her side, and her smile receded.

"Not fast enough," she answered. "I need an army."

"We'll be in Astapor by nightfall. Some say the Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world," he continued.

She turned to him and coldly clarified, "The greatest _slave_ soldiers in the world. The distinction means a great deal to some people."

"Do those people have any better ideas how to put you on the Iron Throne?" He tossed back.

Refusing to concede and walking towards the railing, she said, "It's too beautiful a day to argue."

"You're right," he said and followed her to see the seasick Dothraki on the main deck. "Another lovely day on the high seas."

"Don't mock them," she chided. "They're the first Dothraki who've ever been on a ship. They followed me across the Poisoned Water. If they'll do it, others will, and with a true Khalasar-"

"The Dothraki follow strength above all, Khaleesi," he cut her off and glanced at her. "You'll have a true Khalasar when you prove yourself strong… and not before."

"We shall see," she said before joining Sansa at the back of the deck.

"Astapor holds your army then?" The redhead commented.

Dany sighed. "How much did you hear?"

"Almost everything." Sansa turned towards her. "What do you intend to do?"

She passed a hand over her face and leaned against the railing. "I'm not sure. Is so wrong to refuse to deal with slavers?"

Sansa remained silent for a long time as she stared out at the waves and the dragons fishing until she finally whispered, "Is there no other way?"

"I don't know." The silence returned after her statement.

"Dany, how long do you think it will be?"

Daenerys looked at the redhead as she continued, "The war in the Kingdoms… I don't know…"

She took Sansa's hand and squeezed. "We'll find a way. I promise, Sansa."

The lookout's call stopped further conversation as they looked to see the city of Astapor slowly come into view with a single gold statue, spreading its wings, atop its walls. _An ironic symbol for such a place,_ Dany thought.

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"The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night with no food or water," a servant, Missandei, translated for Daenerys and Ser Jorah as they walked from the docks and into a circular courtyard. "They will stand until they drop. Such is they're obedience."

As they entered, the Unsullied moved to form a pathway between them.

"They may suit my needs," Dany said as they made their way to a platform overlooking the soldiers. "Tell me of their training." _Though I do not want to know what could induce them to such a state of obedience._

After a quick conversation between servant and ignorant, irate merchant, Missandei said, "They begin they're training at five. Every day they drill from dawn till dusk until they have mastered the short sword, the shield, and the three spears. Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training." She felt the merchants' eyes upon her. "They're discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing."

"Even the bravest men fear death," Jorah commented.

"_The knight says even brave men fear death_," the servant translated.

"_Tell the old man he smells of piss_," the merchant retorted. Dany felt Jorah glance over at the man's tone, but she remained as a statue. _Perhaps I'll tell Jorah of this later… if he asks. That would be better._

"_Truly, Maste_r?"

"_No, not truly. Are you a girl or a goat to ask such a thing?"_

"My master says the Unsullied are not men," she returned to translating. "Death means nothing to them."

_"__Tell this ignorant whore of a Westerner to open her eyes and watch._" _Hm, I wonder if you could open yours and realize that I understand everything you've been saying,_ Dany mused as she contemplated everyway she could beat the merchant into cowering in fear. She took a deep breath. _Now is not the time. An advantage must simmer till the boiling point._

"He begs you attend this carefully, Your Grace," the girl said as he moved down to the first line of Unsullied. He called forth one and proceeded to cut off the silent man's left nipple.

Dany swallowed and willed herself to stay like stone throughout the display, though she could not help by try. "Tell the master-"

"_She's worried about their nipples? Does she know we cut off their balls?"_ The merchant commented as he flung the flesh to the ground and sent the still silent man back to his place in line.

"My Master says 'Men don't need nipples'," the girl said as the merchant turned to face them.

"To win his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave market with a silver mark, find a newborn, and kill it before its' mother's eyes," Missandei returned to translating as Dany scanned the men's faces and ignored the horror settling in her gut. "This way, my Master says we make certain there is no weakness left in them."

She could not help herself as she spoke, "You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin." _Reducing this city to ash with dragon fire is becoming more and more attractive. _

"_She is offended_," the girl spoke to the merchant. "_She asks if you pay a silver coin to the mother, for her dead baby."_

"_What a soft mewling fool this one is," _he commented.

"My Master would like you to know that the silver is paid to the baby's owner," the girl translated. "Not to the mother."

Breathing deeply as she got a hold on her emotions, she turned to the man and asked, "How many do you have to sell?"

As Missandei translated, the man held up eight fingers.

"Eight thousand."

"_Tell the Westerosi whore she has until tomorrow."_

"He asks that you please hurry," she translated as the slaver left. "Many other buyers are interested." Finishing, the girl quickly followed the man out of the courtyard.

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"Eight thousand dead babies," Daenerys commented as she walked with Jorah along the shore.

"The Unsullied are a means to an end," he said.

"Once I own them, these men-"

"These are not men," Jorah cut in. "Not anymore."

_I say they are men._ She asked, "Once I own an army of slaves, what will I be?"

"Do you think these slaves will have a better life serving men like the slaver than serving you?" He asked in return. _Does it matter? Even with a better master, they would still be slaves._

As they proceeded into a slave market and she watched a small girl following along beside them, Jorah continued, "You'll be fair to them. You won't _mutilate_ them to make a point." She smiled briefly at the girl as they walked. "You won't order them to murder babies. You can see that they're properly fed and sheltered. A great injustice has been done to them. Purging the city will not undo it," he finished as they came to a stop a few feet from the girl, who rolled a small ball towards Daenerys.

She picked it up, and the girl made a twisting motion with her hands. Chuckling, she reached to turn it, but a man grabbed her arm, forcing her to throw the ball away.

As Jorah wrestled with the hooded man, she fell and saw a long, insect leg begin to force its' way out of the ball with a hiss. Shaking, she scrambled backwards as what appeared to be a shimmering green manticore crawled out of the toy, only to be speared by the stranger's knife.

As she stood, the man chased the girl to the end of the pier, where she jumped. He sheaved his knife and turned towards the top of the bank above them. Her eyes followed his gaze to find the girl above them just as she turned away.

"The Warlocks," Dany whispered to Jorah before turning to the stranger.

"I owe you my life, sir."

"The honor is mine," he answered and lowered his hood. "My Queen."

She felt Jorah stiffen at her side. Glancing at him, she whispered, "You know this man?"

He nodded. "I know him. He's one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen and the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's King's Guard," he finished with a near hiss.

"King Robert is dead," the man said as he took a few steps forward. "I've been searching for you, Daenerys Stormborn. To ask your forgiveness. I was sworn to protect your family." He took a deep breath. "I failed."

He knelt before her. "I am Barriston Selmy, King's Guard to your father. I allow me to join your Queen's Guard, and I will not fail you again." He bowed his head as she nodded.

"Arise, Ser Barriston. We've much to speak of, but not here," she commanded, and began the walk back to the quarters that Ser Jorah had found earlier.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Seventeen: Politics or Fire?**

Gesturing for Barriston to sit, Daenerys sank into a chair in the main room as Jorah hovered beside her.

"Why did you wait so long?" She questioned after he settled into the wooden chair.

"I was ashamed, Your Grace," he answered and steadily met her gaze. "How could I face your or your brother when I had abandoned your father?"

"Then why join Robert Baratheon's King's Guard?"

He licked his lips. "A man has to eat, Your Grace, and I'd been in the King's Guard for several years. It helped too that such a position in the new regime kept any fanatics at bay."

"And so you've come to right a wrong in your old age not that he's dead," she finished.

"Many would see it as such, Your Grace."

She nodded. "Perhaps there is a place for you here afterall." She rose. "Ser Jorah, I trust you'll keep Ser Barriston company. We'll return to the market tomorrow. Gentlemen."

They bowed as she left for her chambers.

Finding Sansa staring out the window, she quietly closed the door before making her way over.

"It's quite a sight," she breathed beside the redhead, who jumped and faced her.

"Oh. Yes."

"But that wasn't what held you there."

A pause. "No," Sansa said slowly. "I was thinking of the North."

"Ah." Dany settled on the edge of the bed, and Sansa followed suit. "Your family. I don't know much of them. The only Starks I've heard of were the ones from the rebellion."

"Do you think he loved her? Your brother?"

Dany shrugged. "I don't know. I never heard much about him except from Viserys, who blamed me for it all."

"You?"

"You know the Targaryen tradition of marrying brother to sister?" Sansa nodded. "Viserys said I should have been born earlier. Rhaegar would never have married a Martell or made eyes at a Stark then if he had a Targaryen to wed." She shook her head. "My last brother was a fool."

"From what you've said, I agree." Sansa squeezed her hand. "Though I must confess that I do not know much about the dragons from before the war."

Dany smiled. "I'm sure Jorah has a book somewhere if you're curious."

The redhead grinned before frowning. "Are you really going to buy a slave army?"

Dany glanced down at their joined hands before looking her in the eyes. "Not if I can help it."

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The sun beat down mercilessly in perfect harmony to the bleeding bodies placed at intervals on the side of the walk. The setting was in contrast to the cry of gulls and the gentle lullaby of the sea as Daenerys walked with Jorah and Barriston.

"The walk of punishment is a warning, Your Grace," Barriston explained from her left.

"To whom?"

"To any slave who contemplates not being a slave."

She paused in front of one wretched man and held her hand out behind her to Jorah. "Give me your water."

He handed it over, protesting, "Khaleesi, this man has been sentenced to death."

Without a word, she climbed up to the condemned body and offered the water, but the man refused her kindness.

"Leave this place, Your Grace," Barriston bade her. "Leave tonight. I beg you."

"And what is she to do for soldiers?" Jorah stuck his proverbial foot out to trip the older man.

"We can find sellswords in Pentos and Mir."

"Is it we already, Ser Barriston?"

_Why must they squabble like children over some expensive, much desired trinket? _She rejoined them on the walk.

"If you want to sit on the throne your ancestors built, you must win it. That will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done."

"Blood of my enemies. Not the blood of innocents," she clarified and walked ahead of them, assuming they'd catch up.

"How many wars have you fought in, Ser Barriston?" She heard Jorah ask.

"Three."

"Have you ever seen a war where innocents didn't die by the thousands?" _There we are. Always with a point, Ser Jorah._

Silence reigned behind her. _Doesn't mean the bloodshed can't be reduced, Ser Jorah._

"I was in King's Landing after the sack, Khaleesi. You know what I saw?" She remained silent. "Butchery. Babies, children, old men, and more women raped than you could count. There's a beast in every man, and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand." _Of which I am well aware… but the Unsullied are not men. _She started to smile at her own solution as Jorah continued, "but the Unsullied are not men." _Which is very obvious. They will obey my command. I am not an infant, Ser Jorah, who needs her hand held and every decision pressed upon her till she accepts it as her own._ "They do not rape. They do not put cities to the sword unless they're ordered to do so." _Why do men believe they know everything?_ "If you buy them, the only men they'll kill are those you want dead." _Really beating a dead horse here, Jorah._

"Do you disagree, Ser Barriston?" _Can't seem to favor one, even if it is my plan._ _I'd never hear the end of it, I'm sure._

"When your brother Rhaegar led his army into battle at the Trident, men died for him because they believed in him. Because they loved him. Not because they'd been bought at a slaver's auction." _Easily remedied by freeing the slaves and treating them as the people they are rather than cattle._

"I fought beside the last Dragon on that day, Your Grace." She suppressed the urge to grit her teeth. "I bled beside him."

"Rhaegar fought valiantly."

"But he was not the last Dragon, gentlemen," she cut in before either could say more.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I'm not dead. I've just been dealing with one thing after another compounding into a boulder that has kept me from writing, but it's dissolved now... mostly.


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